Potter's Luck
by Les Dowich
Summary: Harry Potter defeated Voldemort then vanished. Ten years later Brian Wardsmith had a flourishing career and lots of commissions, and a secret... As requested, this is slash, just so you know. Check rating. Now completely posted.
1. The Ward Smith part I

**Potter's Luck**

**By**

**Les Dowich**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Buckets of Thank Yous:** As always, I cannot say this was a lone effort. Without the input and comments from the BeST this would not be a rounded or finished tale. Having a good beta is vitally important to completing any work and I have the BeST three in the business. Zarathustra46 has her own published work on FFNet and I suggest you go have a really good read. Nathaniel_hp runs Challenges and writes Ron/Remus perfectly, Google him, it's well worth it. The Wicked Bunjhiny doesn't write but that purple pen of her's is a killer and her grasp of punctuation leaves me stunned. (She is so damned good at it!) Thanks again, Guys.

**Author's Note:** I'm not sure how to classify this tale. It came to me when my partner's daughter emailed us to tell us we were to be Grandparents. Go Guys! Sadly the outcome of that pregnancy was a quick trip to hospital at three and a half months ending in miscarriage, which was a distinct shock to us all, but life goes on and hopefully the next attempt will be more successful. So, enjoy the tale and don't forget to feed the author with lots of tasty reviews.

Regards

Les

oo0oo

Part 1 – The Ward Smith

The car was an MX5 convertible, sleek, low and extremely impractical for the meandering country lanes around Kilbridie. Guided by an expert hand, it glided to the curb and stopped with a crunch of gravel. The driver pushed longish, blond hair out of his eyes and for a second, grinned a self-satisfied smile through the windscreen before pulling out the keys and climbing out of the low-slung vehicle. Stretching tall, he felt his back crack into place. Shaking his shoulders to remove the residual kinks he turned a slow circle as he studied the businesses lining the cobbled square.

Kilbridie was a Muggle-Wizard village tucked away in the backwaters of Essex, well off the beaten tracks. Anyone not familiar with the area would miss the hidden community, its existence partially masked by Muggle repellent charms. Strangers always attracted a covert but very real scrutiny and this new arrival was no exception. He was tanned, taut and terrific, a trim waist, broad shoulders and narrow hips. Blond hair cut in a trendy Muggle style hung across his forehead in a straight fall, swept from left to right over bright, hazel-green eyes. His black jeans and green shirt clung in all the right places and the leather jacket he slung over his shoulder was quietly expensive. Despite the Muggle clothes and Muggle car, there was something intrinsically wizard about the young man who rounded the short boot of the vehicle and looked down the street toward the chemist shop on the main shopping area.

Harry Potter surveyed the houses, his darting glance taking in the green grass of the village square, the cobbled streets and bulls-eye glass of the old-fashioned shop fronts. He was somewhat startled to see an old-fashioned pony trap down the street, pulled by a rather solid looking bay and a Kneazle lounging on a windowsill in a patch of spring sunshine. A woman in blue robes walked a pair of small black and red crups further down the street and a couple of children played with a ball, also a hoop that jumped and bounced in a very magical way. Smiling softly to himself, he slipped on his jacket, wordlessly checked that his glamour was safely in place, then wandered away from his car toward the apothecary a few shops down.

He didn't look anything like the gawky, birds nest-haired teenager who destroyed Voldemort and vanquished his Death Eaters. Harry took great pride in hiding the tell-tale hair, green eyes and scar behind a glamour cast in parseltongue that was all but unbreakable by the strongest of wizards. Not even Albus Dumbledore, in his prime, could have seen past his cover spell. It was better this way, Harry had decided, days after war's end when public opinion of him had been high but the awe of his power had been fear-tinged. The looks shot him by the Ministry officials, and especially the Minister for Magic himself, were both speculative and nervous.

After foiling an assassination attempt, purely by Potter's luck and not by good management, Harry had taken the advice Hermione gave and had 'slipped into anonymity' to all intent and purpose. Oh, the _Daily Prophet_ had run story after story speculating on where 'The Chosen One' had vanished to and what he was doing. As time went on, the stories faded away until other scandals and excitements drove the memory of The-Boy-Who-Lived off the front page and into the dim recesses of the Archives. Harry Potter had disappeared, and Brian Wardsmith had come into his own.

Brian lived in Oxford, and was a well-respected curse breaker and crafter of wards. He earned a respectable living, breaking curses on objects and people, dispelling war damage and repairing wards that had been torn or destroyed by accidents or the war. He was blond, not albino blond like Malfoy, but the golden blond of California, America, where he hailed from, according to his bio and accent. His eyes had been spelled to a hazel-green and a few days of sun-bathing had sported him a convincing tan. The famous scar, which faded somewhat on the demise of Voldemort, had been completely removed by a Muggle cosmetic surgeon at a discrete clinic actually situated in California. Hermione helped draw up the paperwork and Arthur had helped to file it, all very quietly, of course. Then the elder Weasley 'forgot', a carefully crafted _Obliviate_, administered with his permission. It had been a blow but the tailored _Obliviate_ had also been applied to Ron, and a specially modified memory blocker, rather than remover, had been installed in Hermione's memory appended with a password to protect Harry's new identity.

It had been hard some five years later being made known to Hermione and Ron at a party and have them gaze right through him as if he was no one, but over the next few months he had established a casual friendship with them. Neville and Luna, oddly enough, had become good friends before they left the country on an extended holiday. Neville was seeking out new and rare plants while Luna pursued whichever mythical beast caught her fancy. When first introduced to Brian at a Ministry function, Luna took one look at him and laughed as she called him Hidden, which made Neville blink at her. The Seeress had simply waved away Neville's question of 'Why 'Hidden'?' and gave Harry a small tortoise-shell comb, a cup of tea, and an enigmatic smile that said all and nothing, just as usual.

On the current job, Brian had been contacted by a newly-risen Head of Family named Jorensecle who wanted all the tainted wards on the family property removed and remade with something more suitable to the new owner's affiliations. Jorensecle Senior had been a minor Death Eater who met his demise on the fields of Hogwarts in the final battle. The current Head of Family was so eager to project a squeaky clean image, he was willing to have his whole manor magically 'fumigated' to rid it of the taint of Dark magic and make it over into something more suitable to an up-an-coming Light politician.

After doing a little research, Brian had taken up the commission with a pinch of salt. He had demanded obscene amounts of money, insisting that he receive half in down-payment. It seemed the last Master Ward Smith who had tackled the job ended up spread thinly over a few square miles of countryside. This one was a good job, with enough of a challenge to keep Harry interested. The contract Hermione's law firm had drawn up was iron-clad and signed in blood. It contained an additional clause that, if Harry disappeared or the client reneged, the goblins were contracted to take out in flesh and pain the rest of the payment and twice as much again as a penalty. Harry would once have thought that was a little harsh, but a job the year before had almost been his last when his client thought to save money by murdering him in lieu of paying him. Again Potter's luck had won the day and Harry had not taken such chances since.

So, here he was in the middle of nowhere, looking for Farsee, the Jorensecle Manor which was doing a good job of pretending to be unplottable. Having found the village, he had decided to stop for directions. As it was, the only place that seemed to be open still was the Muggle Chemist shop.

The little bell on the door jangled as he pushed into the old-fashioned shop-front. Inside, the place was brighter than expected, indirect lighting supplementing the sunshine from the small display windows. To his right were glass shelves holding brightly coloured Muggle boxes and packages displaying familiar names like Vaseline and Kleenex. A young woman in a neat white overall stood behind a counter laden with perfume and make-up displays while a round fixture of assorted hair ornaments bracketed the far end of the glass and light-tube counter arrangement.

On his left the area was darker and sported highly polished wooden counters with a set of high stools before it. Long shelves disappeared into a dimness that seemed far too deep to be natural. Jars displayed high on the wooden racks hinted at disquieting things floating in their depths. The smells of modern cosmetics and ancient potions ingredients blended with an unusual harmony as he stepped further into the shop.

He was debating whether the young woman with the come-hither smile would know anything about his destination, when he was arrested by the appearance of a man in the gloom of the potions shelving. He was tall and quite thin, moving with a subtle grace despite being in deep concentration over the paperwork he held. A shining black ponytail hung down his very straight back while a black shirt with fine red pin-striping clung to narrow but squared shoulders. Black cashmere trousers hugged a tight backside and long, slender legs. Long, elegant fingers trailed over the shelves, tapping at certain points to emphasise the finding of an ingredient. His profile was Egyptian and his skin a warm golden brown over high cheekbones and a firm jaw.

Harry knew he shouldn't drool over the sight of a well presented body but this one was perfect in its entirety. Another good reason for the Boy-Who-Lived to completely disappear. The _Daily Prophet_ would have a field day speculating on the love life of the Man-Who-Preferred-Men.

Feeling himself under scrutiny, the man turned slowly and over the length of the counter met the eyes of the newcomer, as a small smirk lifted one corner of his mouth. He returned the blond's stare with a bold black-eyed gaze. For a moment Harry nearly yelped, the look and eyes all too familiar, but then he checked himself. No way Snape could look that young, that tanned or handsome, and the nose was straight and elegant, not mashed and hooked. Besides, Snape had been killed in the final battle, by Nagini, no less.

Harry smiled back and gracefully hitched a hip onto one of the stools at the counter, leaning an elbow on the polished wood. "Hi," he murmured, somewhat inanely. Small talk was not something he excelled at.

"Hello," the man replied, his voice silky smooth as he carefully placed his paperwork aside and strolled over. "How may I serve you?"

Harry shivered and thought inappropriate thoughts about serving, only to ruthlessly squash them down. "I have to confess, I'm lost. My Magical Marker took a hit on the motorway when I had to do some fancy braking and bounced it off the dashboard; hasn't been right since. I need two things to start with: directions to Farsee Manor and directions to a Magical Marker repairer."

The man's smile came slow and sexy, lending a sparkle to his eyes. "For the Magical Marker repair, I have no help. Farsee Manor, however, there I can take you. My name is Sarasvat Narsimha Rao, Nash to my friends." He offered his hand in the Muggle way and Harry blinked as he took it, warmth coursing up his arm and making him shiver happily.

"Brian James Wardsmith, just Brian usually," he replied, with a contented smile. It was like coming home, just staring up into those dark chocolate brown eyes.

Without letting go of his hand, Nash called out to the girl at the other counter who was watching them with a wide grin. "I am going to take Brian to the Manor, look after the shop for half an hour, please."

"Sure, Lover Boy, take your time."

Opening the door, Nash bowed the beautiful stranger out and followed him to the curb side. He cautiously approached the small, fast looking car, unsure of what to do with the machine. It was obvious he had not had much to do with Muggle toys, so Brian opened the door and helped him in, much to the bigger man's surprise. Slipping around the bonnet, Brian started the car and backed out neatly, still very pleased with his hard-won skill and the agility of his new car. Taking direction, he headed out of the village and up the hill on what proved to be a terribly disappointing short drive indeed. Pulling onto an extremely rough track, he carefully manoeuvred the car up to a pair of disillusioned gates masquerading as a fallen tree. He could feel the wards sparking even before Nash stirred and sighed.

"Well, this is it," he remarked, turning to face Harry across the seats. "You know, if you need a guide to the area, just fire-call me at my home, Laburnum Cottage, or if you have access to a Muggle phone you can call the shop."

Harry pulled out a thin, slide mobile and grinned as Nash chuckling gave him the number before climbing out of the car. "I better get going back to the shop. Mandy fears that some of the more exotic potions ingredients may escape and devour her while I am not present."

"Okay. Thanks for your help, I appreciate it. Er, can I ask you out for a drink tonight? There must be somewhere local we can get a meal and butterbeer."

"A butterbeer might be difficult to come by but they do a very acceptable counter meal at the Fox and Crown."

"Tonight, say?"

"I'll meet you in front of the Apothecary," Nash agreed, before pulling out a slim beech wand and apparating neatly and almost silently away.

Sighing happily, Harry faced the gates and murmured the security password he had been given, then drove up the curved carriageway to the rather imposing house. As he slid out of the car, he felt the wards' hostility and carefully cast _Protego_ over himself as he climbed the three steps leading to the portico. As he approached, the door creaked open and a disgruntled house-elf with a strong resemblance to Kreacher glared at him from the gloomy depths. Suppressing a shiver, Harry introduced himself and allowed the muttering, swearing creature to lead him inside, the door banging shut with a clang of finality behind him.

Harry had been in evil old houses before, much more deadly than the low-level grinding malice this house exuded. Shaking his head, he allowed the elf to show him over the house, ending in the corner room provided for his stay. It was grimy and smelled of damp and stale sweat, very unpleasant and quite unsuitable he decided, as a cloud of dust rose from the quilt when he patted it. Sneezing a few times, he made a frustrated noise and retrieved his shrunken trunk from his pocket. Slowly, he placed the trunk on the floor near the far wall, engorged and opened it to pull out some chalk powder. Studying the floor, he moved a rug and _Banished_ the worst of the grime and desiccated remains of lavender polish to expose the hardwood floorboards below. With careful exactitude, he drew warding runes on the wood in a wide circle to enclose the trunk and the cleared floor space, and then activated the wards. The chalk disappeared so that no clue was left to the type of warding he had raised. Satisfied with his work, and against everything he could think of, he keyed the wards to his own magical signature to protect the trunk and surrounding space on all six sides. Job done, he strode out into the hall where the house-elf still lurked with a malicious grin.

"I am going to walk the perimeter now and will be back at four o'clock," he told the smirking creature, then set off out into the fresh air, pleased to get away from the claustrophobic house.

The gardens were not much better, overgrown and weed ridden, but even with his abysmal scores in Herbology, Harry recognised quite a few potions ingredients, which brought back the pleasant remembrance of white teeth in a wide smile and softly glowing golden skin. Pulling out his mobile, he climbed a small hillock and found signal to make the call to the Chemist's shop where Nash should still be working.

oo0oo

When Mandy answered the shop phone, Nash rolled his eyes. The poor girl had brothers and a father who were always on her case about something. Her mother seemed to feel the need to have any decision she made endorsed by her daughter, no matter what time of day it was. He felt quite sorry for Mandy at times. It took him a moment to realise she was calling _him _over, holding out the phone. "It's the blond bombshell from this afternoon. Fast work, my Man, very fast work," she teased lightly, handing over the instrument.

"Hi, Nash, sorry to disturb you but, how do you feel about fresh potions ingredients? The greenhouses here have been neglected for years and there are plants all over the place. If you want to have a look at them and pick some, you are very welcome."

"Sounds good. How about tomorrow?" the surprised Potions Honorarium replied, a slow smile curving his mouth.

"We can discuss the details over that beer tonight. Can I pick you up from the shop at five?"

"Very well. I usually apparate so it won't be a problem."

"See you at five then."

oo0oo

Closing his phone, Harry continued his survey, a happy bounce in his step as he anticipated their meeting that evening. He didn't date much, preferring to keep away from the over-charged gay scenes in the wizarding and Muggle communities. He was still coming to terms with the poor reaction he received from Ron when told Harry was gay. The red-head had hit the roof and it had taken both Hermione and Neville to keep Ron from destroying Harry right there in the middle of Molly's sitting room! Their friendship had never been the same after that, and slowly Harry had drifted away from the group. In fact, that scene had been the decider in Harry's planned and carefully executed vanishing act.

Ron had been devastated when he received a letter from Harry saying he was leaving the wizarding world for good, no blame, no strings, and thank you for being a friend for so long. And if Ron ever needed anything, to simply put a note in the _Quibbler _and Harry would be in touch, although the lack of logic in that statement failed to register with the red-head. That letter and the consequences of his own outburst had helped Ron to make the tentative acquaintance with Brian Wardsmith when they had been introduced to him and his very male date de jour. Ron felt it made a small atonement for his bad behaviour around his best friend, Hermione had explained to Brian one afternoon.

At five on the dot, Brian leaned against the car, smiled slowly at Nash and watched as Nash ushered Mandy out of the Chemist's and locked up the shop. The two men didn't kiss or even shake hands in greeting, just stared at each other as Brian held the door open and once again helped the taller man into the magically expanded interior of the small green car.

Again, they drove toward Farsee but Nash directed him onward a couple of miles beyond to where a long, low Tudor style cottage with a thatched roof was set back off the road in a stone fenced plot of ground. Nash pulled his wand and made a gesture that opened a double gate and Brian drove up the carriageway toward the black wooden front door.

"Nice," he commented, as they climbed out.

"It's home. Make yourself comfortable," Nash invited, opening the door and ushering him into a nicely furnished sitting room with a Muggle modular lounge suite and a low polished coffee table. Harry was rather surprised to see a computer set up in an alcove off the main lounge and a state-of-the-art sound system under the window, yet no TV in the corner. Nash put a CD on before hurrying away, the sound of a shower running doing interesting things to Brian's imagination as Queen tried to convince him he was a '_Good, Old-fashioned Lover-Boy_'. Keeping his libido under control took quite some effort as Nash appeared, still slightly damp but sweetly packed into black, low-rider jeans and a loose dark maroon shirt that billowed around him, allowing a glimpse of a smooth hairless chest through the open front.

Brian hoped he didn't appear too gauche as he helped Nash into the small car for their trip to the pub. He smelled good, he looked good and when he bent to negotiate the low car seat, his jeans slid down a little to reveal the smooth curve of a golden tanned backside. The man was sex on a stick, Brian concluded, as he tried to keep his mind on the road and not be distracted by the soft, sexy voice giving directions.

The Fox and Crown was an old fashioned country pub, converted from an original coaching inn, the horse troughs now planted with flowers. The meal was as good as promised and the two men ate heartily as conversation flowed easily, jumping from subject to subject at whim. It was the nicest, most relaxed date Brian had ever been on and by the time he drove Nash home again, they were well on the way to establishing a firm friendship to augment the spark of attraction between them.

Climbing out of the car parked before the Tudor cottage, Brian kissed Nash at the doorstep before declining the invitation to come inside. For a second Nash frowned, then smiled and nodded his agreement, taking this thing slowly was probably a very good idea if they wanted it to become more than a quick scratching of an itch. He watched as Brian pointed his wand at the car and cast a stasis charm followed by a shrinking spell that turned the car into a tiny matchbox sized replica which he then popped into a pocket. Dropping another kiss on Nash's lips, the blond disapparated, leaving the Potions Honorarium to close his mouth and the door after himself.

Apparating into the warded space around his trunk, Harry stretched and sighed, a grin curving his lips as he opened his trunk and crawled inside. When he first appeared as Brian Wardsmith, Harry had purchased the trunk as a special order from Wizarding Tents Limited. The customised trunk contained inside it a four room flat held in Wizard space; rather like the tent Mr Weasley had brought with them to the Quidditch World Cup, what seemed like eons ago. It was the tent that had given him the idea for making a mobile home. The four rooms were originally two bedrooms, bathroom, and kitchen/dining room, but now the dining room was a study and practical work area. One bedroom was still just that, a comfortable bedroom strewn with personal effects. And they were _Harry's_ personal effects, his photo albums and special keepsakes from his previous life. The second bedroom had been turned into a library and second work area. The bathroom doubled as a makeshift potions lab if necessary, the marble-topped vanity unit acting as a potions bench, with the room connected to an outlet somewhere in England so that the air was always fresh, and water and sewerage facilities were always available no matter where the trunk travelled. Gave living out of a suitcase a whole new meaning Harry thought, as he showered and prepared for bed. Tomorrow would be a long, hard day as he did the initial survey of the wards and artefacts in and around the house.


	2. The Ward Smith part II

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Author's Note:** I have added a slash tag onto the intro of this story as asked by muggle628. I assumed everyone would know it was slash but there you go. For those of you who have reviewed, my thanks. Please, feel free to review again, any time. All feedback is gratefully accepted. For those of you who, like me, hate abandoned stories, this one is complete but is still being betaed so it will all be posted, that I do promise. Here's a call to some brave soul. I need some information on Indian women and their role in modern society, both in rural India and in the cities. Part of this story is set in New Delhi and may need a few corrections. If anyone is game, just email me at my usual address lesdowich gmail . com (just take out the spaces). Thanks again for your support and so on with the story!

oo0oo

The Farsee house-elf was shocked when Harry came down the stairs. The night before, it had put out anti-apparation barriers to keep the intruder out. That had happened to Harry before, hence the warded and keyed entry space he set up around his trunk. He ignored the disgruntled elf as he wandered through the rooms in the upper storey, marking the position of every suspicious artefact he found on the map he had constructed on a three dimensional tablet. Most of the magical items were simply neutral, neither Dark nor Light; rather, everyday items found in a wizarding home. One mirror, for example, was somewhat Dark; giving insults and derogatory comments to any who looked into it.

The house-elf trailed after him, wringing its hands and glowering at his back as he surveyed the five floors, one after the other. The attics were a minefield of discarded junk and broken furnishings, a number of items registering as dangerously Dark. Harry made a notation of their positions and earmarked them for future disabling or disposal to the Department of Mysteries, if they were evil enough.

By the end of the day, he was pleasantly tired and ready for a meal, a bath and a long glass of wine. He was very tempted to call Nash and have a chat but, as the other man was coming out to the house tomorrow, he decided to forego the pleasure, settling for an early night in his trunk flat with a meal apparated in from Linguini's in Soho; wizarding take-away at it's best!

oo0oo

Nash arrived at the house the next morning with a basket of food and a flask of chilled pumpkin juice. Brian greeted him at the apparition point and ushered him into the garden with an air of suppressed excitement. The taller man smiled down at the blond's enthusiasm, amused that this American was so brash, yet quite sweet as he carefully conducted a tour of the greenhouses and overgrown garden beds. He grinned as Brian pointed out plants and flowers, displaying a much fractured grasp of both Herbology and potions. He completely missed the most significant find in the tangle of greenery and brilliantly hued flowers but Nash's keen and educated gaze found it. However, it was so delightful to be fussed over and treated like someone extremely special and desirable, that Nash merely quirked a lip and allowed himself to be guided through the wilderness, Brian's warm hand in his.

"You know, this is really nice," Brian murmured, as they lay side by side under a flowering horsechestnut tree in the hayfield that had once been the East lawn. He had cast both a wind blocking charm and a temperature control charm as the weather tended to heat and cool at the whim of any passing cloud.

"It is," Nash replied softly, rolling his head over to look at his companion.

Brian raised himself on one elbow and leaned in to gently kiss the dark plum coloured lips so temptingly close. Nash tasted of pumpkin juice and the caramel cake they had eaten for dessert. Opening his mouth, he allowed Brian's insistent tongue to enter, sucking softly on the muscular member. Brian's free hand tangled in his thick, blue-black hair, cupping his cheek, his thumb gently stroking the high, arched bone. A shudder worked its way up Nash's spine. The tightness in his lower body grew hotter and harder as Brian leaned in and rubbed his chest against Nash's.

Without conscious awareness, both of Nash's arms moved to wrap around Brian's muscular torso, his hands snaking up under the Muggle shirt to stroke his spine and up to curve over his shoulders, holding him close. Someone moaned softly, and a wandless spell removed shirts and jumpers to a pile on the edge of the blanket. Harry felt Nash's lips curve under his and wondered if the other man had cast the spell or if it had been his own magic having a bit of a rebellion again. It did that sometimes and had completely freaked out the one Muggle partner he had ever taken.

Nash's hands stroked over naked shoulders and snaked between their two bodies to stroke his chest as a pleased hum broke out. Harry pulled back slightly so he could study the look of contented arousal the other wore as Nash carded his hands through thick chest hair that Harry had developed. Opening his eyes, Nash looked up at the blond and glanced down to watch his fingers toy with a small, pale nipple nestled in dark hair.

"I usually charm the majority away…" Brian said ruefully, as the other man continued to draw paths on his skin.

"That would be a waste. I like hairy men," Nash assured him, continuing his stroking over the curve of his waist and around higher to cup a shoulder blade.

"I prefer my men bare," Brian confessed, glancing down approvingly at the smooth golden expanse merely highlighted and decorated by two dark brown nipples that crinkled as he blew gently over them. Nash moaned and allowed his eyelids to flutter closed as the other man pressed a thigh against the bulge in his trousers. It felt fantastic as they were well aligned, hardness to hard thigh, Brian's leg pressed between his, his between Brian's. The tangle suited them both as they stroked and slowly moved against each other.

"Please," Nash murmured, sliding his hands over the muscular bulge of Brian's backside, cupping the cheeks through the linen of his slacks. He squeezed lightly, eliciting another pained groan from the man covering him so sweetly.

Brian tossed his head back and allowed himself to press hard into Nash in response to his kneading hands, then controlled himself once again. "No, not here, not like this," his husky voice whispered, stifling the note of protest with his lips. "I don't want to…"

"Am I not…" Nash began to move, but Brian held him in place with his greater mass.

"Hush, be still," Brian hurriedly assured him. "It's not that you're not good enough, but that you're too good for a quick roll in the hay. Nash, please, I-I am a bit odd about my partners; I always prefer to take it slow and… develop a relationship, not just have a quick fuck. Sorry, it's just the way I am."

The taller man stopped his struggles to get away and grabbed a handful of the thick hair to lift Brian's face out of his shoulder to study his flushed and embarrassed expression before he relaxed. "You _are _a romantic," he half accused as he repositioned Brian's mouth to take advantage of it in a slow, gentle kiss. When they both came up for air, Nash continued, "Some years ago I was involved with a man in India. We had been seeing each other for quite some time and sleeping together too, but we never went out anywhere in public. When I demanded a reason for his reluctance to be seen with me, he said, and I quote, _'Goodness Gracious, Sarasvat, you are fine for a quick fuck but I would not want my family to know about a half-breed like you!_' My mother was English and my father Indian, which made me good enough to fuck, but not good enough for introduction to the family."

"Oh, Sarasvat - is that what your family call you? - I'm so sorry. It's as stupid as the Pure Blood versus half-blood versus Mudblood debate that nearly destroyed this country a few years ago. Load of rubbish, if you ask me, blind prejudice always is. If you are as good a person as you seem to be, then I would be proud to introduce you to my family, if I had any that is, which I don't really. My parents were killed in the First Voldemort War and I was sent off to live in California with an aunt and uncle, who have since deceased."

Nash relaxed further under him and gave a small sigh. "Sounds familiar. My parents died when I was young and I was sent to live with an uncle for a long time. Then I went to live with my aunt in India. It was fun and we served each other's needs, I gaining a family, she gaining a visible man, which is very important in India, believe me."

"Tell me about it, growing up in India, I mean, must have been very different to England or America," Brian asked, content to lie beside him and listen to his soft, musical voice spin tales of a distant and colourful land, until the sun sank below the horizon and the temperature control charm began to fade away.

Packing up the remains of their picnic, Brian apparated them back to Nash's home where they spent a pleasant evening cooking dinner together and sharing heated kisses without stepping over the line they had mutually drawn in the sand. It was wonderfully arousing and hugely unsatisfying but both agreed to let the relationship develop slowly, even if it killed them, Brian complained laughingly as he gave Nash a last, lingering kiss and then pulled back slowly to apparate back to Farsee Manor.

oo0oo

It had taken nearly a week to work out how the Dark magic had formed the wards around Farsee Manor. Once they were identified, Harry had to work out a way to remove them without completely exposing the manor and its surrounding lands to all who cared to look. That would have created havoc with the Muggle road system that happily wound around and through the protected space without ever touching it. If all the wards were removed, then the A23 would develop a gap of about three miles in its length which would be utterly disastrous for the cars and for the manor, through which the road actually ran.

There were three layers of magic to deal with. The inner layer was the oldest of the new wards. The runes had been infused with blood from the family to ensure the ward was strong. Unfortunately, whoever had inlaid the anchoring point, failed to create it by hand but had used Transfiguration magic to build the stone cairn in the cellars. Over the course of the years, the Transfiguration had slowly disintegrated and the carefully-carved runes had simply reverted to rough stone. To bring the whole elaborate warding structure down, Harry merely broke down the blood. He removed all trace of it from the stone with a potion that dissolved every particle of organic matter, then a spell that dispelled the magic harmlessly into the ground. As soon as the binding magic was freed, the wards let out a shriek and popped like a soap bubble with barely a ripple.

The second layer was harder to remove as it had been created with the sacrifice of a human being, a Muggle girl who had gone missing some thirty years before. Harry had researched carefully, using the local Muggle newspapers and by talking to the older members of the village. The local bobby of the time was living retired and he was quite happy to tell Brian all about the Collins girl who went for a walk one evening, supposedly with her boyfriend, and was never seen again. The boyfriend always swore he had never been there that night and had been able to produce dozens of witnesses to confirm that he had been in London, appearing on stage that evening, confirmed by everyone in the theatre, including the cast, crew and director, not to mention the audience. The mystery had never been solved but Harry knew it was simple enough to Polyjuice up as the boyfriend and spirit the unfortunate girl off to her death in the Manor's cellars.

Once he had the identity of the sacrifice, it was a little easier to call her ghost out of the foundations and have it point him to her unmarked and widely scattered grave. She had been tortured to death most horribly, her blood drained, her body ground to a paste and blended with a potion. Then the resultant lump was recombined with her blood to make a paint to inscribe the foundation pillars of the Manor with runes of protection. The magic used to infuse the 'paint' had been donated from most of the family members alive at that time, willingly or forced he did not know. He hoped it was forced but suspected most of the participants in the ceremony had been willing, making it harder for him to banish the ward. Still, if he removed the magic from the girl's shade, then he might be able to bargain with her and the magic as separate entities. Divide and conquer was the name of the game, and a life and death game it was!

As soon as he entered the hidden room, Brian knew he had come to the right place, the magic and the tortured and very angry spirit trying to shunt him out, out of the cellar room, out of the manor and out of the grounds. His own magic met the inrush of mixed magic and enveloped it in a shell of protection which was exhausting but had to be done. Once the magic was corralled, the girl's ghost managed to manifest itself, the marks of her death still unhealed and raw on her body.

"No more, please, no more!" She begged and sobbed, insubstantial hands held out pleadingly.

"I am trying to free you, I promise," Harry told her sympathetically, trying not to empathise too much as it would weaken his resolve.

"Try harder!" she snarled, raising a hand with nails now turned to claws. "I want out of here! Free me, now!"

"I can't free you now; the magic must agree to let you go. What I need is your willingness to leave once I have cut the magical bindings. As soon as you are free, you must agree to go to the Light or the magic will drag you down again and you will never, ever get another chance to leave for eternity."

The spirit gave him a calculating look. "And forgo my revenge?" she asked slyly.

Harry smiled with equal slyness. "If you leave, then the magic will have no anchor point and will have to dispel which means the ward it fuels will also dissipate and the house will no longer benefit from its protection. It will be defenceless; how's that for revenge?"

A beatific smile curved the spectral lips. "Agreed. As soon as you free me, I will go to the Light and leave this place without my protection."

"So it is spoken, so it is moot." The curl of Harry's magic fuelled the words and made them an unbreakable promise. It was done.

"When?"

"As soon as I can, I promise!"

Backing out of the room, Harry freed the magic from his thrall and felt it coil around the girl's spirit once again. She shrieked and began to fade, pulled apart by spectral hands to be infused back into the very stones of the cellar once again. Sighing deeply, Harry returned to the ground floor and shut the cellar doors. He was not surprised to see how dark it had become as he stumbled out of the cellar complex and made his unsteady way back to his trunk. A meal and a sleep were in order before he was prepared to deal with the last and most ancient layer of wards, the original warding.

oo0oo

In preparation for the second to last part of his contract, Harry took the day for himself, using it to sleep in late then have a leisurely breakfast. Using his cell phone he rang the Chemist shop and arranged to meet Nash for dinner that evening, telling him to dress up. After a lazy afternoon of reading and dozing, Brian prepared for his date, wearing his best robes and making sure his glamour was full strength before picking up his wand and checking that his galleons pouch was attached to his belt. He had booked a table at Robspiere's and he hoped Nash liked French cuisine.

Nash had taken the request to heart, putting on his best robes and making sure he had his best jewellery on, too. Brian's eyes widened, then glazed in being met at the door by the most exotic and beautiful version of his friend he had ever seen.

"My God, you look good enough to eat," he breathed involuntarily and Nash blushed, the pink highlighting his golden beauty as he managed a demure smile.

"You said dress up," he reminded, pleased by his date's reaction.

"You look beautiful. I will be the envy of all tonight," Brian remarked, offering his arm with a very slight bow.

Nash shut the door, murmured a locking and warding charm before he took the proffered arm. Brian asked if he was ready and at his affirmative nod, the stockier wizard Side-Alonged him. The change in the air was marked as they appeared in a well appointed apparition area, cushioned benches near the walls for travellers to rest after their journey. Brian carefully guided his date to one of the seats and fussed a little until Nash laughed and kissed his nose playfully. "I'm not porcelain, you know?" he reminded as Brian pulled back, blinking.

"Sorry, but you look so ethereal, I kinda forgot," he murmured with a blush.

Nash sighed softly; perhaps he had gone a little overboard with his toilette. The robes were beautifully brocaded silk that his aunt had sent him, very Indian in peacock blue with gold and red designs woven into the silk along with seed pearls and aquamarines. He had forgone the traditional turban and instead spent considerable time and effort in curling his long hair into ringlets that were held off his face by a golden filet studded with still small aquamarines and pearls. His churidars were of raw peacock silk to match the robes and gathered over his embroidered, brocaded slipper shoes which were the same peacock blue with suede inserts. "I'm glad you like the clothes. My aunt sent them but I have had nowhere to wear them before and no one to wear them for," he confessed softly, as Brian escorted him into the main foyer of the restaurant.

Dinner was exquisite, many small, tasty courses, perfectly presented and served by unobtrusive live waiters who were neither seen nor heard but were always available to assist if the patrons so much as raised a finger. They finished with petite fours and a cheese plate, snifters of cognac and rich Turkish coffee. Conversation had been interesting and the silences never awkward but comfortable and indeed smouldering at times. Nash had told him stories about being a young man in India and about the patrons to his shop. Brian reciprocated with stories of California and his work as a Master Ward Smith.

"Did you choose your occupation to match your name or were you fated?" Nash teased at one point.

"Oh, definitely fated," Brian teased back, offering a toast. "Besides, I'm good at it. Without bragging, I am a powerful wizard and I need every erg of power I can dredge up sometimes. Some of those old places are steeped in human sacrifice to protect them, some sacrifices worse than others."

"How can one sacrifice be worse than another, they are all about taking lives, aren't they?" Nash asked, torn between fascination and revulsion.

Brian snorted. "True, but in a magical sense there is a hierarchy of power. A simple murder is less effective than a murder by torture. A willing sacrifice is more powerful than a murder. A wizard is more powerful than a Muggle. A relation is more powerful than a stranger, a child more powerful than an adult in one way and an adult more than a child in another. The closer the relationship, the more powerful the sacrifice, with the greatest sacrifice of all a powerfully magical parent willing to die to protect a loved child of their body."

The silence that fell over them was tinted with contemplation and past sadness. "And your present case?" Nash asked finally.

"Murdered Muggle tortured to death and the emulsion infused with family magic from multiple sources both living and now deceased. It will be a tricky one."

"How so?"

"Well, the girl is willing to leave as soon as she is free, but the magic… That which belongs to the living will immediately leave to rejoin its owners. The rest, belonging to the dead, will be freed and will need to be banished before it tries to insinuate itself into the banisher, ie: me."

"And if it does invade you?"

"Nasty. On my first job, I didn't realise how bad it could get until my own magic expelled it out of my system. I ended up in St Mungo's with Chronic Magical Fatigue for about two months before it was all dissipated. If it had been more powerful or better directed, there could have been other consequences. But as it was, I was pretty lucky it wasn't worse."

Nash was quiet for a long time before he leaned over and caught the back of Brian's neck pulling him close to kiss him softly. "You be very, very careful, okay?"

"Okay," Brian agreed, leaning his forehead on Nash's to become lost in his deep brown eyes.

oo0oo

There were four types of Runes used by the ancient Ward Makers; Seelie Elevn and Dwarfish for the 'Light' magic runes, Unseelie Elevn and Goblin for 'Dark' magics. For some reason, newer wards usually in Elder Futhark or even later, Ogham, were always put in the bowels of the house, while the older 'Light' wards tended to be up; the higher, the better. Only 'Dark' wards were put underground. After a careful search of all the cellars of the house, the surrounding woods and the few caves on the lands, Harry had failed to find any Dark runes anywhere at all. This indicated the runes were either Seelie or Dwarfish and would be up in the roof structure, which meant a climb and a half to find them. At first he used to wonder why Dwarves would climb up when they were associated with mining and underground but then he realised that Ward Makers were usually human wizards borrowing a written language from an associated race, not members of the race themselves. By the time wizards became anywhere near organised, most of the Middle Earth inhabitants had slowly and silently slipped away from the lands of Men.

Stowing his shrunken broom in his pocket, just in case, Harry climbed out of the roof access and eased the leaded trapdoor aside to climb out into the sunshine at the top of the Manor. The roofs and parapets were a rabbit warren of nooks and crannies, the blue slate tiles moss and lichen covered. Chimney stacks with red clay pots made a forest in the maze, the odd crow croaking angrily as it was disturbed on its usually inviolate nest. Glancing up at the sun and using his wand for accuracy, Harry determined true North and set off across the roof in that direction, while keeping a close eye on the compass he had put in his pocket earlier. The Ancients usually used the compass points as their anchor points as they were magically the strongest and most solid to attach the magic to. When he reached the northern edge of the structure, Harry studied the gabling and slating carefully to try and decide where he would find the Northern Ward Rune.

Of course, it was well hidden under glamours and Forget-me wards, but plainly tucked in under the gables at the end of the northern roof peak. To get to it, Harry had to unshrink his broom, fly upside down and hover perfectly still while he studied the runes incised into the solid keystone of the roof arch. He was just lucky they hadn't put it in during the construction of the house but added it later or else it would probably have been located under the rooftree resting on the keystone. Only once had he been called to a house with the protections in-built and then he had literally to levitate the rooftree to get his wand into the runes to add power to them. This time, he merely surveyed them, deciphered the actual meaning of the runes and marked their position in preparation for the real re-powering job he would do, probably the next day. As they were unweathered, there was no re-carving necessary which was a stroke of luck indeed.

After landing on the roof and letting the blood return to its normal courses, he set off toward the east looking for the next anchoring point. It was easier to get at, being under the leads that sealed the roof, unblemished, neat and ready for the re-powering ceremony. The Southern rune was equally well preserved and depleted, but the Western runes were totally missing! Harry coursed over the roof on foot and cruised along the edge on his broom but there was definitely no sign of runes anywhere. No wonder the wards had failed!

Going back to the roof, Harry flopped down on his back and glared up into the blue sky. Why was life always so bloody complicated! He ate the sandwich he brought with him and drank half his water before he mounted his broom and started again at the Northern edge to copy the runes exactly in every detail. Once he had an absolutely precise copy of all three runes, he allowed himself the luxury of a really wild fly over the grounds confident that no Muggle would see the diving, soaring broom with its wildly laughing rider. He was almost four thousand feet up when he pulled up sharply, the ringing of a mobile phone so out of place it was startling. Laughing, Brian pulled it out and slid it open.

"Brian? Hi, I wondered if you would get any signal. How do you feel about dinner at my place?" Nash asked, wondering what the odd noise was.

"Sounds good. I'm sort of hung up at the moment…" Brian began and laughed aloud when Nash expressed worry. "I'm hovering so high above the village I'm about to get engulfed in cloud, silly. Anyway, sure, I would love to have dinner. I just have to send an owl to the Archives to ask a few questions so I'll be along in a few."

"See you then."

Glancing down at himself, Brian decided a long, hot shower to get rid of the soot and grime ingrained in his hands and jeans would be in order, as soon as he had owled the archives.

oo0o

"Basically, it's the sequence you carve the wards in that determines the type of protection you invoke, oh, and the runes too…" Brian murmured, content to be propped against the edge of the sofa before the fire, his feet stretched out toward the blaze. Nash's head lay in his lap as he sprawled on the hearthrug with his flat stomach being used to balance their wineglasses on. "There's a verse that covers it, sort of.

_North, South, East, West, Protect the ones you love the best_

_West, East, South, North, Bring the shining spirit forth_

_South, North, West, East, Present the spirit for the feast_

_East, West, North, South, Feed it to the Hell's mouth_

Pretty puerile but it covers the essentials; intent and order do count, of course, as does the runes chosen to start with."

Nash carefully placed the glasses down and rolled onto his belly, burying his face in Brian's lap with a knowing grin. Brian groaned; the heat and slight humming of Nash's chuckle making his hips automatically buck. "You're making abstinence very difficult," he said, slipping his hands under Nash's armpits and lifting him up to capture his lips in a long, drawn-out duel for dominance that was only finished when his arms lost power and Nash slid down his body into a quivering heap in his lap.

"Oh, Merlin, you are fantastic. I want so much to… Let me…"

"Oh yes, now… please, I want to… yes!"

Words became meaningless as robes and trousers were discarded, exposing naked bodies to the flash and flicker of the firelight. After banging his knees on the stone floor, Brian cast a cushioning charm on the rug and smiled smugly while Nash laughed at him. It was Brian's turn to laugh when Nash snarled something rude and unintelligible when he couldn't get the lube jar open with one hand. Neither laughed as Brian sank into Nash's tight heat, the waves of mixed pleasure and pain barely softened by hasty and inadequate preparation. Brian almost apologised but Nash arched under him, taking all he had to give and begged for more. The small imperfections in their techniques were lost in the flood of naked lust that swept both their insecurities away and gave them uninterrupted joy.

Late that night, lying curled around each other like sated puppies, Nash played with a lock of Brian's hair and sighed as the other man rose up his body to kiss him once again.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Brian asked gently as he wrapped an arm over the narrow golden chest and hugged him gently.

"Too keyed up to sleep. I… that was fun and a pleasure and amazing, unlike any other experience I have ever had in my life."

"But…"

Nash blinked and rolled his head to smile at the other man. "No 'but'… it was just perfect. I was simply enjoying the afterglow and replaying it all in my head. However, you should sleep or you will not be fit for work tomorrow."

Brian relaxed and smiled back, leaning forward to dab a quick kiss on Nash's nose. "Good, because I have had partners that go from wild and fantastic to angst ridden closet queens in the blink of an eye."

Nash giggled. "Been there, done that, got the tea towel," he replied in a singsong tone that made Brian laugh and hug him closer.

"You're right, I need to sleep or I won't be fit for anything tomorrow. Are you okay with my staying here the night?"

"I would not have asked you if I had any qualms, I do assure you," Nash murmured, pulling him closer and tightening his arms possessively. "Sleep, now, immediately," he ordered imperiously, making Brian snigger and snuggle closer.

"Yes, your highness," he murmured on a yawn and allowed himself to relax completely.

oo0oo

The Archival owl was back with all the material contained in the archives relevant to Farsee Manor. The original manor building had been erected in 1492 by the ruling family of the time. The building had withstood flood and fire, siege and bombast quite handily until 1746 when, accused of being a Jacobite sympathiser, the then Lord of the Manor had been run through in London, the Manor falling into the hands of the present Lord's family.

"And that's when the western ward was lost, when the idiot decided to extend the Manor by pulling down an outer wall. He literally and physically pulled down the wards," Brian explained, pacing the hearthrug as he lectured Nash who was curled up on the sofa enjoying the display. "Fortunately, it was the west ward and not as pivotal to the structure of the wards as, say, the south or worse, the north. So, the three remaining runes could limp along reasonably effectively against the rather more peaceful times until Grindlewald raised his ugly head. Then all of a sudden, the flaws in the wards had to be rectified in a hurry. My predecessor was called in and it says here, "_Master Ward Smith Trubilan recarved the missing Western ward then powered up the warding grid with the greatest of all magic, Unseelie with a human sacrifice to strengthen the structure._" Was he nuts?" Brian exclaimed, his hands waving wildly. "Bloody Hell! Was he looking to commit suicide? Why would he put Unseelie into Dwarf runes? No wonder the Western ward looks like it was blown off. If it was so badly mismatched then it would have exploded in his face and…" He checked his notes. "Yep, blew the piece of granite carved with the replacement Western rune incised on it straight through his chest, blistering fool!"

Nash laughed at the grimly satisfied smirk on his new lover's face and reached out to draw him close. Brian immediately stopped his pacing and stomping, his expression lightening to pleasure as he allowed himself to be drawn down to the sofa and enfolded in slim, golden arms. "And so, you must be very careful when you are restructuring the wards, my love. I do not want to lose you so soon," Nash told him semi-seriously, kissing him with growing possessiveness.

oo0oo

Brian spent hours poring over his texts, consulting the old scrolls he had collected over the years, some even pre-dating Hogwarts. He had raided his parents' vaults, that of his family and the Black Family vaults which he had received from Sirius over time along with his own purchases he had amassed until he could confidently state he had the most complete and wide ranging library on Wards, Runes and Warding Magic in the Wizarding world.

With the references at his fingertips he suddenly realised why Master Ward Smith Trubilan had been fooled into thinking the runes were Unseelie. They were, in part, but the curlicues under the fifth and seventh figure changed the whole meaning into something quite different. Translating the remaining three wards, he thought deeply before he wrote up what he thought the West ward would read. He left it on the bench and went to eat, drifting though the old house and deciding which items would need decontaminating before he returned to read what he had written, nearly banging his head on the table. Because of the curliques, the meaning of half the runes were flipped and made the opposite. Taking out a new sheet of paper, he rethought the sequence and wrote it out carefully. Leaving it to percolate through his brain, he slept alone for the first time in a week, waking early to check his work.

Finally satisfied, he fastened a leather belt around his waist and checked the Muggle and completely non-magical hammer and set of stonemason's chisels in the pouch. Runes had to be carved manually into the stone of the building. It was a skill he had worked hard to acquire and practiced regularly, making stone plaques, sculptures and figurines for his friends and for sale in a small gift shop in Muggle London.

Mounting his broom, he flew out over the property and burned off a little energy before landing on the roof and using his compass to pace out the exact spot for the new runes. The sun was just setting when he carefully began the incision of the first rune. There were three in the west ward and each one had to be carved on a successive day, while the sun was setting. He had learned to work fast and accurately in his carving and had the first rune almost finished, just the last dressing to tidy up, as the last rays of the sun were sinking into the west. Fortunately it was Summer and he had a fair long time to do the work, even taking into account the long twilight.

He apparated to Nash's doorstep on the dark of the third night, sweaty, cramped and exhausted. The taller man took one look at him, cast a feather light charm and carried him up to slide him into a hot bath, perfumed and infused with muscle relaxing potions and fatigue toxin leeching properties. Harry had a vague feeling he ate something but then the energy toll of the complete concentration he had to maintain over the last three days finally hit him and he knew no more.

oo0oo

Waking slowly in a bed that wasn't his own caused Harry to sit bolt upright, but then he remembered he had crashed on Nash's doorstep. Vaguely embarrassed, he relaxed and glanced around, spying a folded parchment on the bedside table. The note was short and signed with a flourish but merely told him it was Friday Morning, he knew where the shower was and there was food downstairs under warming charms for him. Harry thought there was something vaguely familiar about the penmanship but forgot it as he headed for the loo and the luxury of a long, hot shower. After eating his breakfast, Brian decided it was a day to play hookey and simply relax. Making the decision, he went shopping for the ingredients to prepare dinner for two, his big challenge for the day.

When Nash came home from work that evening he sniffed the air, an eyebrow shooting up at the delicious smells coming from his kitchen. He was most surprised to find Brian peeling carrots with the deft air of one well practiced. A large pot on the stove simmered softly sending up fragrant clouds while the rich, fatty smell of roasting lamb was overlaid by the lighter, fruity perfume of prepared compote.

"Hi," Brian greeted with a shy smile as he straightened to kiss Nash hello. "I hope you don't mind but I commandeered your kitchen. There's a bottle of wine chilling on the table if you want to pop the cork. Dinner will be about an hour, I should think."

"It smells fabulous," Nash murmured, bringing the bottle in to open. "Need a hand?"

"Nah, I have it all under control but you can cut the vegetables up if you like."

They worked in companionable silence, occasionally bumping hips and feeding each other sips of wine or a sliver of salad. Nash gossiped good naturedly about his day, complaining about one or two fussy customers in a humorous way. Brian filled him in on the difficulties of finding good granite for the next part of his job at the Manor and how few stonemasonry yards were still around these days. Pinkerley's Marvellous Memorials, his usual suppliers, were completely out of green granite and Yerton's only had inferior stone left.

"Fancy a quick trip to Italy this weekend?" Brian asked, as they nibbled cheese and sipped port to round out the fantastic meal.

"You are joking, aren't you?" Nash asked with a slightly startled expression.

Brian paused, looking baffled. "No. I need to go to the quarries and pick up some stone and it's just as easy for two to take the trip as one. Besides, I would like your company; travel can be a bit boring on your own."

Nash's smile softened and he leaned forward to drop a kiss on Brian's unsuspecting nose. "I'd love to come with you to Italy, thank you. You just startled me, that's all. Most people put a bit more thought into international travel, rather than announcing it as if they were popping up to London for the day."

"Oh." Brian paused, then giggled. "Yes, I suppose it was a bit cavalier of me to ask you out of the blue like that but you see, I do pop over to the continent just like that, part of the job, you know. Still, it's nice where I have to go and you will probably like it. We can stop and visit a winery or two and I'll bet you could find some interesting things to look at, if you tried," he coaxed with a laugh.

"I'll bet I could," Nash agreed with a grin.

oo0oo

The weekend away was fantastic, both young men thoroughly enjoying the ambiance and anonymity of the Italian countryside. By the time they Portkeyed back to Nash's cottage on Sunday night, Brian was the proud owner of two blocks of green granite and Nash sported a pair of stylish dragon hide boots from the markets in Milan. Three cases of wine and two cases of mixed potions ingredients would be shipped without magic, arriving some time in the next couple of weeks.

Casting a featherlight charm on the larger marble, Brian hovered it out to Farsee Manor. Using a stone saw, he cut away the sides of the block on an angle leaving a completely flat area at the top of the block that was only half the surface area of the base and was exactly in the centre. Using his chisels, he carved a perfectly round depression in the top of the block, with a diameter of four and a quarter inches exactly. Using a Micrometer, he found the exact middle of the faces on the circle and cut shallow trenches one quarter of an inch wide and half an inch deep from the circular depression, over the lip and down the sloped side to hold the chains for when the whole warding column would be finished. Once the gross carving on the monolith was done, he spent best part of the day hand polishing the marble to a mirror gloss. By sunset, the piece was ready and he hovered it down to the cellar complex. Having already completed the measurements and calculations, Brian carefully positioned the piece in the exact centre of the wards, where the four confluences met. As the sun set, he used his own magic to integrate the marble monolith into the very foundations of the building, making it an integral part of Farsee Manor.


	3. The Ward Smith part III

oo0oo

Lord Elphius Dolgren Jornesecle, Master of Farsee Manor, arrived in splendour on Tuesday morning, with his wife Juliana, his son Elphius junior and daughter-in-law, Catarina, and their only child, Lizella, in tow. There was a flurry of house-elf activity as the trunks, boxes and bags popped into being in the Great Hall just before the fire flared and the family members stepped out of the Floo. Brian stood well back in the shadows and watched as the Lord of the Manor bullied and roared, his wife ignoring him, his son defying him, and his granddaughter cowering behind her mother to get away from him.

'_Happy bloody families, this lot_,' Brian thought cynically and softly slipped away to the lower stillroom he had commandeered for his workshop. Observing his client families when they were unguarded was always enlightening, he found. It certainly gave a truer picture of the state of affairs than the stilted, formal meetings held to engage his services. He knew it was just a matter of time before the Master decided to call him up from his hidey-hole and he would have to endure a formal meal with them, at least once.

The smaller block of granite was now neatly sliced into five equal slices of one inch thickness and each piece roughly rounded out. The lowest section would be cut into a circle exactly four and one eight inches in diameter. A circular depression half an inch deep with a diameter of three and one eighth was cut from the top. The remaining lip of raised granite was divided into quarters by trenches half an inch deep and quarter of an inch wide. In the top trench he fixed a golden eyelet in the middle, a golden chain of three and a half feet in length already looped through it. In each of the surface quarters, he roughly carved the runes that appeared on the Northern Ward, not finishing them very deliberately. The final finishing would be done at the ceremony to reactivate the wards.

The next slice made the pendant that would hold the Southern Warding, three inches in diameter with a depression of two and three-quarter inches across. It was brought to the same level of completeness as the Northern Ward and Eastern and Western Warding pendants, each progressively smaller than the other. The final slice of stone was a capstone, a simple cylinder of plain stone, rounded off at the top with a cross incised into it. There were no chains only runes, for the North, South, East and West wards cut on the quarters. The elaborate preparations took all night and by sunrise on Wednesday, Brian was stiff and sore and rather surprised that he hadn't been ordered up by the Lord of the Manor. Apparating up to his room, he crawled into his bed in the trunk, threw himself down and went immediately to sleep.

oo0oo

Lord Elphius Dolgren Jorensecle was an important man; he was paying a lot of money for the Master Ward Smith to fix his protection. He planned to have a large audience for the ceremony and he was damned if the stupid hired servant was going to defy him. He had sent his house-elf off to bring the fellow up for dinner on Tuesday evening, but the elf had returned to say the workshop was deserted and the Ward Smith was probably off gallivanting around with the Potions Honorarium from the village. He had sent his lazy son down to the cottage a mile past his eastern border but Elphius the Younger had returned to say the man was not there and had not been seen since Monday morning. Furious, he had stormed down to the stillroom on Wednesday morning only to hear the pop of apparition as he approached. Flinging open the door, he found the place empty, the coals of the fire still flickering and hot. Ordering his elf to get the man from his room, he was a little surprised when the elf began to punish itself before it even cried that the room was so heavily warded that even house-elf magic could not penetrate the barriers.

Thwarted and angry, he had gone instead on a tour of his properties and his blood pressure had risen another ten points; the place was a disaster! How was he supposed to show off his lands when they reeked of such neglect and mismanagement? Summoning every house-elf and retainer he could think of, Lord Jorensecle put them all to work in a cleanup effort that left heads spinning and the residue of magic making hair raise on the arms of all who passed even close to the gates. Nash, on his way home from work on Wednesday night, stopped in shock as the magic curled around him and almost made him drop the consignment of potions he was carrying. Shaking his head, he wondered if Brian would be around that night but didn't hold out too much hope. He knew the Master Ward Smith would be putting in long hours and lots of magic to create the symbols of the wards and make the place ready to accept the new West Ward as part of the whole.

Brian woke to the same tingle of magic and shook his head in resignation. A residue of unassimilated magic was a good thing to have lying around at this point in the proceedings. If this had happened a few days ago he would have been furious at the destruction of the calm atmosphere he needed for the carving, but now? Now, the magical ambiance of the place needed to be charged and rejuvenated and it seemed the Lord was doing a very fine job indeed. Taking a shower, he put on light grey robes with a silk rope belt and flat grey boots before leaving his trunk and the room assigned to him.

The first person he bumped into was the granddaughter of the house, hiding behind a pillar as she watched the small gathering in the Great Hall. She squeaked in fright as the tall man in the ghost clothes startled her.

'Hello, little one. What are you doing hiding up here? Shouldn't you be down there getting some supper?" Brian asked squatting down so he didn't tower so intimidatingly over the child.

She stammered and chewed her lip before shyly glancing up at him. "My nursery elf has been ordered to help Grandpapa so there's no one to give me any lunch, or dinner," she told him confidingly.

"Oh dear, was that your tummy growling? I though they had brought a dragon with them," Brian told her in wide-eyed astonishment as he straightened and held out his hand. "Come on, let's go find some food. I'm as hungry as a dragon, too."

The silvery giggle and a small, warm hand in his, made Brian smile as he led the child down the stairs, taking the pace slowly so her small legs could keep up. They made an odd pair as they descended, all eyes turning toward them as the Master Ward Smith graciously handed the child down the last step, then surveyed the company with hard hazel eyes.

"Where the hell have you been?" the Lord roared furiously, stomping forward only to hit a barrier that tossed him back on his heels. "What is this?"

"You have the manners of a boor and all the grace of a sick hippogriff!" Brian snapped angrily, as the small child clung to his leg. "You posture and pose as the lord and protector of your people yet you fail in the simple duty of protecting your family and making sure they are fed and cared for."

"How dare you! Who are you to prate duty to me?"

Brian shook his head in disgust. "I am the Master of the Ritual and I do know the Laws of Hereditary, Duty and Honour intimately. What is your opinion of a Lord who fails to make sure the children of the house had proper food and drink?"

"No one in my house starves a child! How dare you imply it so! Who told you such a lie?"

"A child whose nurse-elf has been put to other duties and not been allowed release to tend the tasks she was originally assigned."

"Twizzy!" a younger male voice snapped and a small completely distressed elf appeared out of thin air, beating her head on the tiles even as she tried to crawl toward her small mistress. Unfortunately, the conflict with the task she had been ordered to that day made her small body twist and flicker as it tried to tear itself apart. "Oh, Merlin's Beard! Father, release her now, before you kill her!" Elphius the Younger snarled furiously as he strode forward.

Elphius the Elder looked as if he might ignore his son for a moment, then realised there was an audience of interested observers. "Oh, very well!" he snapped in disgust. "Tend your proper duties, Elf."

The elf squeaked in relief, darted toward her mistress and popped her away in an instant, leaving the adults to decide how they were going to react to the situation. Brian stayed calm and expressionless as the two Elphius' confronted each other silently before backing off a bare inch to break the deadlock. The younger gave a small, grudging bow and strode back to his wife, the tension slackening off for the time being.

'_What a jolly fine family this is indeed,_' Brian thought, as he was ordered to table at the Lord's left hand, the rest of the company taking their seats in the dining hall at the Lord's command. Always an observer, the Wardsmith kept his opinions to himself, making small talk and sipping very sparingly of the wine, banishing most of the gobletful each time it was topped up. Lord Jorensecle seemed to want to indulge him, possibly make him completely inebriated for some reason, or maybe no reason, for the servers didn't top up Brian's glass any more often than they topped off their Lord's. By the end of the meal, the Lord was mellow and actually asked what the Master Ward Smith had planned for the Ceremony, rather than demanded an answer.

"I have written out your parts in a scroll that will be delivered to each of you tomorrow. I will also come and talk to each of the participants individually and coach you over the next two days so that by Saturday evening we are all ready to do our parts. I assume you will be the Northern Ward, Lord Elphius and your wife…" he raised his goblet in a small toast to the uptight woman at the other end of the table, "…will be taking the Eastern Ward. Your son will be the Southern Ward and by rights, your granddaughter should take the Western ward but she is rather young for this magic. In these cases she is allowed to be represented by a close male relative, either your second son if you have one or your brother if you do not."

Father and son glanced at each other, then away as Lady Jorensecle snorted in a most unladylike fashion. "Our second son is just that, a second son and my husband has no brothers, thanks to the last debacle we endured."

Brian sighed and contemplated his glass for a long time, taking the euphemism to mean the younger son was a Squib or close to it. "Then the child, supported by her mother, must take Western Ward. It is the only choice left. I will send up the scrolls this evening. Each of you must study your part and learn it by rote so that no mistakes will be made when the magic is flowing. By midnight on Saturday, the Manor will be warded and the human sacrifice in the cellars abated."

"What? What's this about a human sacrifice?" Elphius the younger roared, anger and astonishment colouring his countenance bright scarlet.

"The spirit of the Muggle girl who was tortured and murdered in the cellar to fuel the newest set of wards has agreed to leave as soon as I can curtail and redirect the magic back to those who gave it."

"And if those people are dead?" Lord Elphius nervously asked.

Brian contemplated his glass again. _'It's a good ploy to make me seem more intelligent and knowing than I really am, although in this company that's not hard,'_ he thought irreverently. "In the case of freed magic with no one alive to reclaim it, it will dissipate harmlessly into the grounds, raising the ambient magic of the whole property that bit higher."

"It won't be wasted?" Lady Juliana asked, a greedy light in her eye.

"It is your family magic, it will stay with family," Brian told her softly, then shivered as a cold draft ran up his spine.

"How many guests can I bring to the ceremony?" Lord Elphius demanded, sloshing more wine into his goblet.

"To the empowering of the wards? As many as you like. The more magical well-wishers there are, the stronger the magical field they will help generate. When we go to destroy the old wards, however, it is best to have a minimal audience, only family around you, unless you plan to share the freed magic? I thought not. Although, I will be bringing one person to act as my Guardian, a necessary functionary, I'm afraid."

"And who is that?" the son asked curiously.

"Sarasvat Narsimha Rao, your local Potions Honorarium," Brian told him without inflection or emphasis, ignoring the light of speculation in the lady of the Manor's eyes.

"Humph! Very well, bring the sand nigger if you like," Lord Elphius snapped rudely and never knew how close he came to dying in that moment as Brian's magic almost slipped his control in the midst of his fury.

Before he could say something… unfortunate… Brian felt a slight nudge on his shin and glanced up, the rage in his eyes easing a little as the usually quiet daughter-in-law gave him a small smile and a sympathetic look. Perhaps there were some members of this family worth protecting, but not many, it seemed. Brian swallowed his reaction and reined in his magic with a firm hand.

oo0oo

"They are a nightmare! An absolute nightmare, Nash!" Brian stormed, his fury unabated, kicking at the lounge in passing as he paced Nash's hearthrug.

Nash waved his wand and caught some of the bits and pieces Brian's magic had snatched up in the whirlwind of its thwarted tempest. Nash was impressed by the display, especially as it had been raised on his behalf, but knew he had to calm the smaller man down. Rising to stand in his path, Nash slipped an arm around Brian's waist and pulled him close, stopping his tirade with his lips. Brian stiffened then melted as fury melded into passion and he pulled the taller man closer, burying his hands in his long black hair.

"Now, Love, while it is all very flattering to my ego, it is all very detrimental to my roof. You are about to blow the thatching off," Nash teased, when the kiss turned to small, sloppy pecks and teasing licks, hands wandering wildly where they would. "You only have one more day to endure them and then you are free to leave them to stew in their own vitriol."

Brian rested his head on Nash's shoulder and allowed the other man's velvety voice to soothe him as his slightly calloused hands rubbed comforting circles on his back. "The little girl and her mother are sweet but the Lord and his wife are pure poison. The son is an odd one, a mixture of poison tempered by his wife's influence. He may even grow up to be a reasonable Lord, if he gets to inherit soon. On his own or with his wife, he was … tolerable. Oh, Nash, I am going to apologise to you on bended knee in advance." He dropped to his knees and buried his head in Nash's crotch, playfully puffing hot breath into the material, making the other shiver and moan.

"You are totally forgiven, as long as you don't stop that," Nash gasped, gripping handfuls of blond hair and revelling in the talented lips mouthing at his fly.

"Will you be my Guardian at the Ceremony of Releasing on Saturday night? I need someone I trust at my back and I trust you totally, my magic trusts you totally."

Nash froze, gently but insistently pulling Brian to his feet by two handfuls of hair. "Do you mean that?" he asked when Brian was standing before him with a slightly shy expression and a wry smile.

"Yeah, I mean that. I don't trust easily, Nash, too much past baggage, too many times let down by people who were supposed to be trustworthy. But you… it's as if my magic was tuned to yours and has been for a long time, as if I was coming home, not making a new relationship." He slid his arms around the narrow waist and linked his hands loosely behind Nash's back. "I think I could love you completely… no, I know I could love you completely, but I am still trying to learn to trust myself, my own judgement, even when my magic is always three steps ahead of me."

Nash rested his forehead on the top of Brian's messy blond hair. "Thank you for your honesty. I feel… somewhat the same. Too many people have used and abused my trust for me ever to give it lightly but even though we have only known each other a short time, I, like you, am coming to love you and trust you with my life, and my secrets. I would be honoured to be your Guardian at the Ceremony of Releasing."

oo0oo

Saturday evening did not come soon enough for Brian's peace of mind. He had coached the Lord as much as he could as he was the pivotal point of the ceremony. As a pureblood, the Lord was used to ceremonial tasks and had learned his part but his arrogance was a hindrance rather than a help. His wife was also schooled in Pureblood ceremonies and had learned her part with little fuss, ordered the necessary ceremonial garb for all five participants and even helped coach her daughter-in-law in her part of the ceremony.

The weakest link was, of course, the child, but Brian had spent a long time with her, making it into a game and a dress-up time. She had responded well and was looking forward to carrying the ward disk and, if she did her part well, Brian would give her a copy of the warding disk for her very own! It had entailed a quick return to the workshop to make a second Western Warding disk but it had been little trouble as he had been able to use magic in its carving. That treasure was safely ensconced in the child's room, under her pillow, ready for her return from the ceremony. To ensure the child did not falter during the ritual and that her mother's magic coursed through her as if it was her own, Brian decided to use a Ritual of Binding.

"It will not interfere with the Warding Ceremony but will feel a bit like you are playing follow the Leader," Brian explained to mother and daughter. "For example, when your guide says lift your right arm, you will both lift your right arms as if they was tied together with string. If you decide to jump up and down, your mother will also jump up and down. If Mum decides to hop on one foot, then you hop on one foot too, Lizella."

The little girl giggled and her mother smiled even as she realised the young Master Ward Smith was making what was a deadly serious business into a game for the benefit of her daughter.

"It will not harm them?" Lizella's father asked, careful to keep his tone light and non-threatening.

"No, it is a timed spell, and will cease as soon as the wards are empowered, without any need to dispel it."

"Very well, I leave it to your discretion," he agreed, his wife nodding, too. Lizella giggled and began to hop until her parents finally smiled at her antics.

oo0oo

The ceremony was scheduled to begin at five o'clock sharp so friends and family began to gather at three. Nash, resplendent in brocaded robes, stood at Brian's left shoulder and surveyed the gathering clan with a jaundiced eye. His wand was discretely holstered on his left forearm, ready to slide down into his hand in a split second if needed. He was here at Brian's invitation but these pillars of British Society did not want him in their home and a number made that more than obvious with their sly looks and salacious gossip. Brian merely ignored them, knowing they were helpless to act on their prejudices because he, and by association, Nash, were pivotal to their future well-being; there wasn't a damned thing they could do about their presence!

When the gong struck thrice to announce the beginning of the Ritual, everyone stepped back away from the Warding circles Brian had carved into the grass that morning. The procession followed Brian in a solemn line from the front doors to the Northern Ward. As they approached, all glanced up at the eaves where the Northern ward, like the other three, had been marked with garlands of flowers and brightly fluttering ribbons. 'So that no one could miss,' the rumour ran a little maliciously through the company.

Between Brian's hands was the garlanded capstone, the simple, cross-incised cylinder that would tie the pieces of the ward together. He offered it to North so that the rune for North could be incised into the proper quarter by Lord Elphius, who traced over the elaborately-carved runes with his wand tip, empowering them. His son carved South and his wife East, also adding their magic to the runes. His granddaughter -- her small hand wrapped around her mother's wand, and her mother, with her hand wrapped around her daughter's -- traced out the West runes using her mother's magic. Once the four quadrants were carved, Brian turned on his heel and tossed the beribboned and garlanded stone into the air. His magic caught it and sped it on its way to the very central position of the wards fifty feet above the roof where the stone hovered perfectly still.

The gong chimed again and the ceremonial participants turned on their right foot to face west, the small girl now leading the parade as they marched slowly westerly around the house's perimeter to the Western warding circle. Lizella and her mother stepped into the circle and knelt facing the house as they had been instructed, both holding Catarina's drawn wand in their right hands, holding out their left, and Lizella's hand resting palm up in her mother's. Brian knelt and laid the warding circle in their hands, the golden chain dropping between the edge of their palms and thumbs. Chanting the necessary charms, he wrapped the chain anticlockwise around their hands, up around their wrists and back over the inner wrists to loop it over their thumbs. It flared cold fire, then lay still as mother and daughter eased their hands down until the backs of their hands rested in the grass, in contact with the earth. Using the tip of the wand, the mother-daughter team carefully inscribed the rune for West in the central depression of the disk, the magic from the earth and the sky beginning to fill the hollow with a faint sparkle.

Leaving them kneeling on the ground, the procession moved off to the Eastern ward, bypassing the South to repeat the blessing and binding with Lady Jorensecle. The depleted procession continued around the house, past North and West to the South where the heir was bound to the Southern ward and then back past East to the North where the Lord of the Manor was bound to the Northern Ward.

The ambient magic was beginning to build as Brian cast _Sonorus_ and continued the chanting as all four participants joined in. Four wands raised to point at the roof wards, then slashed in a straight line down to the first quadrangle of the disk where the first of the three Runes of protection was incised with wand tip. The four wands slashed up, flinging the magic the drawing of the runes built up, to the roof ward where it was absorbed into the first rune. Each ward was made up of three runes and the actions were repeated three times to complete the first level of protection, House to ground. All four family members then shuffled ninety degrees clockwise, still on their knees, to face the ward beside them. Using their wands as pointers once again, they incised the second quadrant with the three warding runes, joining the four wards in a circle.

Again the participants made the ninety-degree shuffle and incised the protections, while the wand movements joined the magic from the outer borders of the property to the warding circles. The final shuffle and incising joined the full circle in both directions as well as the borders into the warding.

Turning for the last time to face the building, all four raised their left hands for the first time and West was the first to take the built-up magic from the warding circle and join it to the capstone hovering so high above the house. Mother and daughter rose to their feet, now deep in the magic and walked forward, Ward stone still raised to shoulder height. Walls, floors and furniture melted away from them as they marched down to where the monolith stood in the very centre of the house. They stopped an arms' length away from the monolith, their hands holding wand and ward, centred on their quarter of the pillar.

Still held in thrall to the magic, they neither moved nor breathed as Lady Juliana walked through the magically attenuated walls and came to stand opposite them, coiled in her Eastern Warding. South was next to appear, then North joined them, all four standing like statues before the monolith.

Brian directed the chant and North drew the Northern wards on his quadrant of the pillar, carefully placing his disk in the depression at the top of the monolith. The golden chain slipped neatly into the channel carved to hold it and the wizard placed his wand tip on the chain, just shy of the flat top of the pillar. South was next to complete the carving and place his warding into the hollow in the North warding, his chain lying in the channel carved in the North warding as well as the pillar. South nested her Warding and finally West laid the last disk into place on the top. All four participants raised their voices to join Brian's in the final chanting, the build-up of magic making their hair stand on end as thunder sounded and a sound like the ripping of silk tossed them all backwards on their backsides as the capstone plunged into the hollow, slamming through the warding stones and fusing them to the monolith, as if they had never been separate entities. The golden chains fused to the granite, becoming one to chain the magic and send it through the earth to the borders, through the house to the roof, and through the air to dome the property in protection against all enemies.

At the final crash of magic, the audience who had to run down stairs, as the walls did not dissolve for their convenience, burst into the cellar and hurried to help all four adult participants to their feet, as they were exhausted. The nursery-elf literally popped in, wrapped skinny arms around Lizella and popped her away without fuss to take care of her needs in her own room. Nash hurried to Brian's side and wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him up.

"You okay?" he asked softly, brushing some of the dust off the grey ceremonial robes Brian wore.

"Have you some Pepper-up hidden on your person?" Brian croaked and gulped gratefully at the vial that was thrust into his lips. "Thanks. All that chanting is hell on the throat," he dead-panned, making Nash snigger as they were hustled out of the cellar and up to the Great Hall where a feast of massive proportions was already laid out for all to celebrate the Warding of the Manor.

"Magnificent job, wonderful ceremony," a loud voice declared, many others joining in the sentiment as Brian was staggered by a hearty clap on the shoulder. Only Nash's arm around his waist held him up until the taller man literally carried him over to a conveniently placed chair and settled him into it. Someone thrust a goblet of wine into Brian's hand while the rest of the participants were settled into other chairs around the room. Nash shamelessly commandeered the chair next to Brian and wrapped long fingers over the burlier man's shoulder. A trickle of energy flowed into Brian, a soothing, comforting feeling. Covering the hand on his shoulder, he smiled shyly up at the taller man.

Before anyone could comment, there was a flurry of robes and an excited squeal announced the arrival of the youngest member of the party who flung herself into Brian's lap and hugged him tightly. The circle of green granite around her neck hit him in the sternum, making him cough a little.

"Thank you, thank you, thank, you! I love it, I love it, I love it!" She squealed, almost bursting his eardrums as she hugged him again.

Nash bit his lip to stop a laugh escaping as Brian was half strangled by her enthusiasm. Her mother blushed furiously at her daughter's lack of decorum as she settled on the Master Ward Smith's lap to point out the runes inscribed. Brian had worked all four compass points onto the rim of the pendant and the three runes of protection in the middle. A length of golden chain suspended it and, he told her with a grin, it would grow as she did. Oohs and aahs from the surrounding adults encouraged the child to show off her new treasure. Those versed in the art of runic protection realised how powerful the trinket was. While the child wore it, nothing would harm her.

Lord Elphius, somewhat recovered from his part in the ceremony, announced that after dinner, the final corrupted wards would be dismantled and a new era of prosperity would take his family into the future. He proposed a toast to his family for their flawless performances during the ceremony. Another toast was proposed to Elphius the Younger for being lucky enough to have a generous father. Lady Juliana was given a standing toast to her beauty and cleverness at birthing such a wonderful son. Even the family name and Manor were toasted in an outpouring of high spirits.

Nash, kept his hand below the level of the table, his wand unsheathed. This hoard of Nuevo Riche buffoons had forgotten to toast the most important person at the ceremony, slighting the Master Ward Smith who was responsible for the conducting of the raising! A number of the guests recognised the omission and were made uncomfortable by it. Lady Catarina flashed her husband a glare at the oversight but he was oblivious. However, when Lizella piped up and said her friend Brian had sang the whole song, not just little bits of it, she was dismissed into the care of her house-elf in a flurry of robes. Dessert was quickly served, a flaming concoction that elicited a lot of applause to cover the uncomfortable moment.

"Are we getting out of here alive?" Nash asked, under the cover of the row.

"Oh yes, the wards are not set yet and if they try anything untoward, the charms will backfire, part of a Goblin underwritten contract a friend of mine drew up for me."

"A wise precaution. Can we slip off early?"

"Afraid not. If I don't complete the job, I don't get paid and that would leave me out of pocket by a large chunk of change," Brian muttered back. "Ah, just ignore their ignorance. It will only discredit them, not me."

"Well, Master Ward Smith! Are you ready to finish the job you were hired for?" Lord Elphius roared along the length of the table.

Brian rose smoothly, Nash rising at his side. "I always complete what I am required to complete. The task will be finished tonight. Nash, please go up to my room and shrink my trunk, we will leave as soon as I finish."

Nash blinked at his cold tone but nodded his agreement, even though he would rather have gone into the lower cellars to watch over the man he was coming to love so completely. Lord Elphius glared at the Master Ward Smith's haughty tone but gave a dismissive wave of his hand, sending the two men on their way. Brian bowed punctiliously and turned on his heel, dismissing the bumptious man with a Pureblood's ability to cut to the bone with a glance. Elphius missed the nuance but a number of his guests caught it and began to rethink their alliances with Family Jorensecle.

oo0oo

Brian _Summoned_ the pre-prepared tray of items he would need of the exorcism. Bell, Book and Candle the Muggles used; Gong and Wand sufficed for Magicals. The spell was not a long one but needed to be cast by either a group of people chanting in unison or one powerful wizard who could command enough power to enforce it. Brian had enough power; after all, he was the Boy-Who-Lived under his glamour.

"Judy Collins, I summon thee. It is time to honour your promise and leave this place. Go in peace." A strike of the gong reverberated through the stone room as he began the chant, spinning the magic out of the stones and confining it in a ball at the tip of his wand. As the globe grew larger and brighter, the soul of the Muggle manifested itself, moving forward to stand in front of him, wringing her hands in anxious fear. "I release you to your Destiny, go to the Light," he commanded, casting the exorcism and using the words to shepherd the soul toward the gate to the next world his spell had opened.

She swayed, undecided for a moment. The magic, feeling her hesitation, tried to escape and pin her back into the stones but Brian prevailed, the soul skittering away and not so much embracing the Light but diving through it as if all the demons of Hell were after her. Thwarted, the magical globe shuddered and tried to turn back on the wizard who had gathered it up, but Brian was ready.

Changing the chant, he segued into the next spell, one to send the freed magic back to the Family or to dissipate any that had no Affiliation to rejoin. The globe began to swirl faster and faster, separating into ribbons of various colours and hues. The suggestion of a man, the light laugh of a woman, the shy smile of a child, all hinted at as the strands pulled apart and flew toward the walls. They would seek out the living members of the family that had donated them and reattach themselves to those people. The magic that felt no pull because its donator was dead, swirled around the low ceiling looking for those that were lost. Most dissipated quickly, returning to the atmosphere or heading toward the nearest ley line to be made part of nature once more. Brian watched as a single thick strand began to spiral in the centre of the room, slowly rising up to the ceiling. It was the last to go, most reluctant to leave and slow to rise, more cohesive than any of the other curls of magic had been. He watched it intently and carefully until the clap of hands made him jump and turn, wand extended, a curse on his lips.

Lord and Lady Jorensecle stood framed in the doorway clapping, expressions of awe and delight gracing their faces as two strands of their own magic coiled around their bodies, then slid into their skins. About to roar at them for disturbing him, Brian realised he had made a mistake in his tired state and whipped around, but it was too late. The last spiral of magic had turned into a single spear. It sliced into him, piercing his magical core and dropped him to the ground in a senseless heap.

A curse split the air and both Jorensecles were tossed aside as Nash swooped to grab his lover and pull him close. "You bloody idiots! What have you done?" he roared, gathering up the limp young man and straightening abruptly. The crowd in the doorway shrank back from the black fire in his eyes as he sneered at them viciously. "There will be a price to pay for this night's treachery, be assured of that!" he warned them and disapparated before anything else could go wrong.

oo0oo

Barnstable Infirmary was not as large or as popular as St Mungo's but it had good facilities and very competent staff. The Medi-witch assigned to Brian Wardsmith was well trained in caring for unconscious patients but had little to do as her role was usurped by the patient's partner. There was no spell to help the young Master Ward Smith overcome the magic invading his core; nothing they could actually do except support his body. If they tried to remove the foreign magic, he could be reduced to a Squib. If he couldn't defeat it or absorb it himself, he would explode, or implode, depending on whether the invading magic ate his own magic or if each fought against the other.

Wardsmith had been unconscious for a week, his partner hovering over him like a vengeful spirit if anyone tried to move the unnaturally sleeping wizard. He would not let a potion or spell be used unless he had personally checked and approved it. He personally bathed and cleansed the unconscious man, read to him and spelled food into his stomach, even slept in the chair besides the bed. Such devotion was wonderful to see, most of the staff agreed, although one or two turned their noses up at a same sex partnership, but they were very few these days. Everyone wondered how he could stand the terribly prickly feeling that the warring magic filled the room with. Peoples' hair stood on end when they crossed the threshhold or even passed by the open door. Nash merely shrugged and went about his business with his long hair tied back in a knot.

Nash woke with a jump, glancing around wildly while he tried to decide what had changed in the room. He rubbed his arms, then realised the pricking feeling was dissipating, the static charge growing smaller and less noticeable. Rising quickly, he crossed to the bedside and looked down as Brian's eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. For a second he thought his love's eyes were a brilliant green, but then they opened fully and were as hazel as ever. Licking dry lips, the blond gulped convulsively at the water that was held to his lips, then coughed hackingly as he tried swallowing.

"Well, looks like I survived to fight another day," he croaked, as Medi-wizards pushed into the room, spells and charms at the ready.

"Looks like," Nash confirmed softly, as he allowed himself to be pushed aside while the medical fraternity took over with a vengeance.

oo0oo

Despite the best advice of the Medi-wizards, Brian insisted on Nash apparating them back to Laburnum Cottage where they crawled into bed for the night. When Brian began to kiss and rub against him, Nash was somewhat reluctant at first. Brian seemed feverish, desperate even, but it only took a few minutes to persuade Nash to remove the silk pyjama bottoms he wore. Brian was insistent and reassured his partner that he was well enough to bottom, even if topping might be a bit much at this moment. In fact, he was so determined that Nash held his shoulders, forcing him to look up.

"Are you very, very sure?" he asked, biting his lip.

"I want you, I want you like I've been on very short rations for nearly a fortnight," Brian finally had to state, his hand over his heart.

Nash laughed at his droll expression and obliged, treating Brian like cut glass until Brian ran his hand down over Nash's flank then the surprised Indian received a rather impatient nip on the backside.

"Get on with it, you twit!" Brian teased, pushing back impatiently.

Nash laughed at him and continued his slow, teasing pace no matter how Brian tried to speed him up or make him lose his control. The building feeling between them seemed to ripple the magic, weaving it around both of them. As they climaxed together, the magic flashed through both of them, making them gasp and shudder as golden-green light seemed to flare around them. Before either could comment on the phenomenon, exhaustion grabbed them and tossed them immediately into a dreamless sleep.

oo0oo

Brian sat in the chair in Nash's lounge room and stared at the other man in growing anger. After their sweet accord and wonderful lovemaking shared the previous night, Nash's fury was shocking and caused his own touchy temper to stir in response. Nash paced the hearthrug, arms waving, voice rising and falling in rage as he vented his long pent-up anger, fear and frustration at what he saw as Brian's cavalier attitude toward his own health and safety.

"You just don't care, do you? You sent me off on a wild goose chase to collect a bloody trunk, then went into that room with nothing to protect you but your wand and your good intentions. Did you ward the door against intruders? Did you, hell! Did you put up a circle of protection? Of course not! Did you take any precautions at all to keep yourself safe and whole? Why the hell would you, you are the invulnerable clever bugger Master Ward Smith, impervious to anything even vaguely resembling good sense. And your arrogance nearly got you killed! Do you even comprehend how close you came to dying in that dirty, disgusting cellar? Do you? Do you?" Nash shrieked, spinning around with his wand drawn in his overwhelming fury.

Since Brian had been saying very much the same things to himself in his mind, he was bitterly angry to hear them flung at him by the one person he was expecting to support him wholeheartedly. When Nash spun and pointed his wand, Brian surged to his feet and snapped a wandless _Protego_ around himself. An outthrust hand sent Nash reeling away, his spell splashing harmlessly off the shield around Brian.

"Well, screw you, too! I don't have to stand here and listen to that shit from you! Just… just go get fucked!" Brian roared back and very deliberately disapparated leaving Nash standing in the middle of his lounge room with only an overturned cup to show his lover had just walked out on him. Roaring in fury and anguish, the taller man sank to the hearthrug and wept.

oo0oo

**Author's Note:** Hi, hope you are all enjoying this so far. There are seven Parts to this story, each divided into two or three sections, this is Part 1 finished. Part 2 deals with Sarasvat and his life. I really appreciate the reviews I have received and those who have added this to favourite story/author. Don't be afraid to review, I love to hear from you, and I do try to answer any questions you ask. Anyway, enjoy.

Regards

Les


	4. Sarasvat Narsimha Rao part I

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Buckets of Thank Yous:** As always, I cannot say this was a lone effort. Without the input and comments from the BeST this would not be a rounded or finished tale. Having a good beta is vitally important to completing any work and I have the BeST three in the business. Zarathustra46 has her own published work on FFNet and I suggest you go have a really good read. Nathaniel_hp runs Challenges and writes Ron/Remus perfectly, Google him, it's well worth it. The Wicked Bunjhiny doesn't write but that purple pen of hers is a killer and her grasp of punctuation leaves me stunned. (She is so damned good at it!) Thanks again, Guys.

**Author's Note:** Okay, quick note to clear something up. Any spelling, grammar or anything else mistakes in these Notes, thanks and disclaimer are all mine and my purple penned friend has had no input what-so-ever! LOL Secondly, sorry this is late, I can only assume the upgrades were happening this wekend and would not allow me to upload. Never mind, all fixed now.

Regards

Les

**Part 2 – Sarasvat Narsimha Rao**

Robert Whicken was a portly, well-set-up man with a round, honest-looking face, cheery smile and hard eyes. Everyone respected him and thought well of him, especially since he had taken his 'poor, disturbed nephew, Sarasvat,' in and treated him with such consideration. '_The boy_' was under the care of the very best of 'Medi-wizards', his wishes catered to on every whim with cheerful compliance, or so Whicken made sure everyone 'just knew'. If '_the boy_' wanted his uncle, then his uncle apparated home immediately to be with him. If the '_Medi-wizard_' called, Robert Whicken would drop everything, leave important meetings or run out of social engagements to go immediately to do his duty.

Admittedly, Whicken did not over-use 'the boy' excuse, made sure 'the boy' did not seem to call him home too often and personally wrote apologetic notes to the hostess from whom he had dragged himself, but '_the boy_' was a complete recluse, never seeing anyone except his uncle and the Medi-wizard. A number of Whicken's acquaintances had families who spun fantastic stories about the shy, reclusive nephew. His Smithy shop manager's wife told some fantastic tales about how the boy was under a curse or was so ugly he couldn't be seen in public or that he was a drooling imbecile; but there was no way to confirm any of these speculations, and so the mystery remained unsolved.

Sarasvat's reclusive behaviour and Whicken's seeming devotion to his nephew had served Robert Whicken well. Was a social function boring? So sorry, Sarasvat, his reclusive and mentally disturbed young nephew wanted him. When John Mundy of the Minors Federation was causing such trouble, Sarasvat provided the perfect alibi. How could Robert Whicken be one of the Death Eaters who murdered the Mundy family in cold blood when Whicken was at home with his nephew, as usual. When Death Eaters rampaged through the streets of Leeds, Whicken was at home with his nephew, so how could he possibly be part of such a terrible gang, when clearly Whicken was so considerate and charitable? Well, it was unthinkable. Oh yes, caring for the supposedly mentally disturbed Sarasvat served to cover Robert Whicken's Death Eater associations very well.

Apparating home, Whicken muttered the password on the wards, checked that no one had entered without permission then hurried inside and closed the door after him. A very old house-elf popped in and hurried to take his coat, chattering about dinner and how good Little Master Sarasvat had been about taking his medicine today. Inconsequential chatter that drove him mad as usual, but he ignored the stream as he made his way to the dining room and surveyed the feast set before him. He had a couple of things he needed to take care of later in the evening and the ledgers to go over again. Somehow the Lidcombe deal had cost more than it should and he wondered if someone was dipping the till, bastards!

Something in the chatter caught his attention and he frowned, turning toward the elf.

"… and apparated just a little bit. I know you said not to but…"

"Apparated? What, where?" Robert Whicken roared, making the old house-elf shrink back in fear and immediately it begin banging its head on the floor. "Did you apparate more food into the boy? Damn it, Ziny, how many times must I tell you not to do that! It will make him very, VERY ill and you will be responsible for killing him! The Aurors will come and take you away and put you in Azkaban where you will never see the boy again and you will be severely punished _every, single day_!" He towered over the cringing, weeping elf, using the threats like bludgers to beat her down, each harshly spat word a blow.

"I sorry, Master, I sorry. Little Master is lying so still and not talking to me any more. Love Little Master, not let bad men in white masks gets him. Master say take Little Master and run. I takes Little Master when the Black Cloaks come and killeded Master, Mistress and Little Mistress, but not Little Master. I is to always look after Little Master Sarasvat… always!"

Whicken scrubbed his hair and drew his hands down his face in exasperation. Once the house-elf started on that old track, she was of no use to anyone for the rest of the evening. Now he had to go up and deal with the mess she had made of everything. Blasted elf was completely insane! Stumping upstairs, he removed a key from his waistcoat pocket and manually opened the door. Locking spells could be removed but an old fashioned lock took a little more effort to open, he smugly thought, as he slipped inside and waved the lights on. The suite of rooms was very comfortable, the house-elf having decorated them in some foreign style, said it was how the boy liked it. Maybe she was right, who knew?

The boy had always used these rooms ever since the Wizarding Home Services had brought him and his house-elf to the house... was it really nine years ago? Death Eaters had just destroyed Robert's sister's house and killed his sister, her foreign husband, and his niece. The house-elf had been ordered to apparate the boy away and the elf had, even though the act had driven the house-elf into insanity. Even a house-elf had limits and a nine year-old was too big a burden on house-elf magic to carry for long. Oh, she was alright for cooking and cleaning but she only saw what she wanted to see or what he wanted her to see, with the judicious help of some spells and potions, of course. The boy had never been particularly prepossessing, a skinny little bugger with sallow skin and a big nose. He would never take any prizes at a beauty contest, not even before he…

The older man sighed and pushed into the bedroom, glad the elf was around to clean and care for her precious 'Little Master' and just insane enough not to connect completely with reality or else this whole house of cards would come tumbling down. He stared down at the youth on the bed lying on his back and shook his head grimly. The boy had always been reclusive, living in a little world of his own, fearful of strangers but reasonably intelligent to converse with at night. Unfortunately, by the time he was thirteen, he had gotten over the shock and horror of his parents' death and was more than ready to face the world. He wanted to go to school, buy a broom, attend social functions, rejoin society, but that did not suit Robert Whicken. After all, a demanding, reclusive nephew was a marvellous cover for other, less savoury activities; but a lively, inquisitive nephew who asked pointed questions was not.

It began with a small dose of harmless sedative to keep the boy docile and quiet but he had grown used to the stuff and the dosage had to be increased. The boy had gradually become immune to the sedatives and Robert had started feeding him small doses of Dreamless Sleep, gradually upping the dose until that too became useless. Then, he had to switch to Draught of the Living Dead. Two drops at night and a teaspoon of Dreamless sleep in the morning kept the boy suitably sedated and out of his hair.

One morning about a year ago, he had come to give '_the boy_' his medicine only to find him staggering about the room muttering and slurring, not making any sense at all. Alarmed, Robert had tried to put him back to bed but the boy, although thin and weak, managed to throw him aside and brandish a fist at him, making Robert realise for the first time that the boy was a man and taller than he was! It was a shock to his preconceived perceptions! "You're drugging me! You have been for years!" the youthful idiot managed to splutter, the Dreamless Sleep bottle clutched in his fist. "Well, I won't take any more, you hear me?"

Fine words but the boy… or rather, young man… was an addict and all his resolve had done was force him into a withdrawal induced coma, and he remained in that coma to this day. Oh, Whicken made certain of that! If he had taken the boy to St Mungo's, something could have been done to help him. But a boy in a coma was easier to deal with than trying to force potions down his neck every morning, noon and night. This way, all he had to do was let the house-elf look after him, monitor him carefully through a number of spells, and keep up the pretence of his continued active participation in life.

It had all worked out splendidly until about three months ago when the boy's condition had begun to deteriorate. First he had had trouble breathing and a medical artefact had to be employed to do it for him. That had cost a pretty penny as the device was a medical tool and its possession and use was registered at the Ministry. Robert had had to call on some very old and rather unsavoury friends from his Death Eater days to get his hands on it.

Then Sarasvat's major systems began to shut down one by one and no amount of magic could restart bowels, bladder, liver and the like. Frantically, Robert had again used his contacts to get hold of a Life Support Bed to replace the boy's bodily functions. Finally one night two weeks ago, the boy's heart had stopped beating and he had quietly died. But the magic in the Life Support Bed System that had kept him functioning was still in place and there was enough of a semblance of life to keep the bloody house-elf happy until she did something utterly stupid like apparate food into his stomach. Damn her!

Drawing his wand, Robert Whicken banished the food from the boy's stomach, and checked the small artefacts embedded in the mattress that kept the body breathing and the heart beating. There was no brain function at all, he had checked very, very carefully before he had cast the stasis spell on the body to preserve it until such time as it suited him to dispose of it, to let the boy's body die. Damn his bloody brother-in-law and his stupid Indian wills and codicils and conditions!

"It's your own stupid fault, Louisa! If you hadn't married that foreign bugger and let him set up all sorts of stupid trust funds for his son rather than letting you, as his wife, be the executor. If your stupid husband had done the correct, British thing, instead of the foreign Indian nonsense, then I would never have had to take this course of action to stop your brat of a son from losing me all the money! Still, only three more years to go and Sarasvat can be discarded, after he has written a suitable will again. Which idiot but a foreigner thinks twenty one is the legal age to become an adult? Honestly, bloody stupid foreign ideas!" Muttering and cursing, Whicken finished what he termed 'the maintenance' and stumped out again, closing the door after himself but leaving the candles burning. It wouldn't look right to leave the suite in darkness, now would it?

oo0oo

The wards welcomed the intruder as he slipped inside the Whicken house, a disillusionment spell firmly in place. He had been studying the Whicken household diligently for weeks, watching the boy being slowly poisoned to death with sedatives by his uncle. The body was still on the bed, well cared for but still very dead despite the preservation spells! He had learned a lot about the situation in the Whicken household although not everything. He did know that Whicken was an ex-Death Eater, a minor one but still, he had used his nephew as a fine and ready-made excuse to get away and do his nefarious deeds without anyone being any the wiser. This lack of conscience was one of the reasons this dysfunctional family had been targeted for takeover. His lack of moral fibre simply meant he was fair game for what amounted to identity theft, payback for all the torture and murder he would never be held accountable for.

Looking down at the boy's still corpse, the man sighed and removed the stasis spell, quickly transfiguring the boy's body into a small rock with the ease of long practice. Placing it on the bedside table, he cast cleaning, disinfecting and refreshing spells over the bed to get rid of the lingering traces of the stasis spell. The Life Support artefacts were carefully reset so that they looked as if they were working when in fact they were not. Before he could implement his next step, there was a soft pop and an exclamation of pure joy as the small, elderly house-elf wrapped herself around his legs, effectively hobbling him.

Catching his weight on his hands against the mattress, the Sarasvat look-alike managed to turn and grab his attacker, then laughed as he hugged the small creature who had been 'his' nurse since he was born. "Gently," he cautioned her as he carefully held her away and studied the wrinkled, pop-eyed face with a smile. He was so pleased that all his spell-work and efforts were good enough to fool even a house-elf, admittedly a half mad one, but still, it was a good guide to his success as an impersonator.

"You is better then, I is so _happy_! Is you hungry, Little Master? Thirsty? I fetch lunch!" She was gone with a pop and he shook his head as he sat up properly and pulled his robe straight. First step accomplished, the house-elf had truly accepted him as her master!

The elf was back in minutes with sandwiches and a tall glass of pumpkin juice, not the intruder's favourite but certainly Sarasvat's. He ate every last bite, the sandwich filling delicious, and the bread soft and fresh. Before he could even swallow the last bite, another sandwich appeared and he laughed softly. "I don't think I can eat all that," he commented, as he bit into the new one. "Now Ziny, we need to talk," he said, setting the plate and glass aside to place his hands on the hovering house-elf's shoulders. His tone was gentle and compassionate as the elf was very, very old and there were signs of senility written all over her, if one knew what to look for; so much the better for his plan. "Uncle Whicken has not been good to me… No, Ziny, settle down! It is most important that you listen to me. The reason I have been so ill is that Uncle Whicken has been giving me potions to make me docile but I am not sure why. Now that I am better, I need to find out what he is up to and for that he needs to think I am still ill. Do you understand? We have to continue pretending."

The house-elf suddenly straightened and lost the eager puppy look, growing very serious and a glint of shrewd intelligence lit her eye. "Oh yes, Ziny understands, very well. You is still to be ill and Ziny will tend you like always but when bad Whicken goes to working, you is going to get up and get better to look in his study and in his safe place. I is helping my Little Master, oh yes, I is. I is always helping my Little master, no matter what!"

"Thank you, Zinnanny, I knew you were always my staunchest friend," he told her seriously and pulled her in for a hug, surprised at the flood of gratitude he felt.

"But first, you is going to have a bath, you is not very clean and you needs you hair washed!" the Elf stood away, wrinkling her nose, hands on hips and foot tapping impatiently.

Sarasvat laughed, but did as he was told, heading toward the bathroom as he knew that pose and look all too well. He could go quietly and cooperate or he would be put in the bath by elf magic alone! When he was younger, that had happened more than once. Even now he quickly realised that Ziny would enforce discipline if she had to, even though he had to stop her from punishing herself afterward, which was ironic, really.

oo0oo

Good to her word, Ziny helped her master in his subterfuge, casting the illusion over him to help him portray the still, ill creature when Whicken was in the house. As soon as he left for work, Ziny prepared Sarasvat's breakfast and helped him bathe and dress before going about her household tasks. Sarasvat spent his first few days exploring the house and detecting any wards or traps his uncle had set about the place. He quickly found that the library and study were warded so he left them both alone while checking out the rest of the place. There was not much to see, even the older man's bedroom was ordinary; a few good pieces of jewellery, a single inanimate portrait but nothing extraordinary that might invite comment.

On the second day Sarasvat decided to enter the library, first exploring the wards and almost laughing aloud when he realised they were set to keep out small children and house-elves rather than adults. There was a password but the 'other' part of his memories had been dealing with such simplistic things for years and bypassed it in a matter of moments. Ziny watched as her Little Master dealt with the wards, an odd but pleased smile on her face as she followed him inside the book-lined room. The elf knew there was something very different about her young master but she didn't want to explore that thought too closely; she just enjoyed his presence.

It was a little dusty but not particularly untidy, the books old but common. A large arm chair occupied most of the hearthrug, a small table beside it holding a decanter and glasses, empty of port. Bookshelves lined the room holding what looked like matched custom bindings but when Sarasvat pulled one out it was just that, a binding with blank pages. He sniggered, pulling out another book, to find it too was a blank. "Pathetic," he grumbled, pulling his wand to cast a _Revelio_. All but two shelves were filled with blank bindings, all for show with no substance. The thirty real books on the top shelf were just common household books such as a housewife might use in her daily spells. The lower shelf held a mixture of wizard and Muggle novels, some read, some still pristine. Not much reading or studying was done in this disappointing space. He was about to leave in disgust when something snagged his attention. Turning back to the hearth, he cast _Revelio _on the brickwork and blinked as two of the bricks lit up denoting secret places, very poorly hidden.

His natural paranoia made him cast a lot more discovery spells, checking for tricks and traps before he spelled it open and peered inside the first hidey hole. It was crammed with blue velvet which, when he managed to extract it, was filled with gold, rubies, emeralds and pearls, pieces of jewellery worth a king's ransom. Blinking in shock at the collection, he carefully rolled it up and put it back. The second cubby hole held paperwork; two Wills, a couple of legal documents beribboned and sealed by the Wizengamot, and some photographs.

The young man and woman in the photos waved and smiled, both dressed in exotic clothing, and the man wearing a turban pinned with one of the emerald and pearl pins he had just looked at. The woman wore a more traditional white wedding gown and the gold and ruby collar that had also been in the first hiding place. Other pictures of the couple wearing more normal clothes showed them as a well-to-do couple and then a well-to-do couple with a little girl and a small baby who grew up into… Sarasvat!

"My parents, I presume," Sarasvat murmured as he smiled back at the pictured couple and ran a long fingernail over the baby's head. "And me." He now understood Potter's fascination with photos of his parents, a glimpse of people he had never met and would never meet and yet they were instrumental in bringing him into this world. The fleeting thought was firmly squashed down and banished behind solidly held Occlumency shields. "Amazing!"

Perusing the two Wills, he found that the first, his father's, left everything to his mother if he predeceased and if they both deceased, then his Uncle Sarasvat senior was named guardian. His mother's Will was an exact mirror of his father's, no mention of his uncle Whicken being made anywhere. He did learn that he was quite comfortably placed, if not rich. His name was down for Delhi's Academy of Higher Magic where his father had gone, and Sarasvat was to attend as soon as he was old enough, all fees and dues paid in advance. Sarasvat had two houses, one in England, this one, and one just outside of Delhi in India. The legal documents were his birth certificate and dual citizenship passports. After adding a few extra protection spells and charms to the paperwork, Sarasvat put them back in the hiding place, making sure to leave them exactly as he had found them. Closing both spaces, he put the same spells up to conceal them and left the library, returning the wards to their usual condition.

Ziny brought his dinner up early and sat with him, telling him stories about himself when he complained that his uncle's potions had addled his memory. She was quite happy to recount episodes from his childhood, his relationship with his parents and his older sister. How he had been spoiled and cosseted by them all. When he asked, she described his old room and how he used to play in the garden and help his mother cut her roses. He often watched his father make jewellery in the evenings when he came home from work and how he, Sarasvat, was quite good at making jewellery himself, for an eight year-old.

Finally the old elf helped him get into bed, checking to see that he was exactly as his uncle had placed him before they used their joint magic to cast a stasis field over him. It was a timed spell that would fade away as soon as the front door closed after his uncle in the morning. The house-elf had protested the precaution but Sarasvat had insisted. It proved to be a wise move when Whicken climbed the stairs just to check on his nephew and the stasis fields that protected the body. After all, he wouldn't want the 'thing' to decay by accident, now would he?

Looking through the large desk in the study was enlightening for Sarasvat. Robert Whicken had taken Sarasvat's inheritance and forged it into a very solid empire built on ironwork blacksmithing and shares in an ironworks which included a small mining concern. He had invested the money wisely and it had paid off handsomely but still was his nephew's money. Because of the way it had been obtained, when Sarasvat came of age, Sarasvat would be awarded every knut, leaving his uncle broke and homeless. Sarasvat shook his head sadly, if his uncle had dealt fairly, then he would have been dealt fairly in return. But as it stood, Sarasvat was going to be very pleased to clean his uncle out and toss him into the street! The ledgers showed his uncle had been socking quite a large slice of the profits away in his private vault but no more than his salary would probably be worth. After all, he was a brilliant manager and a shrewd businessman.

Sarasvat wondered why the subterfuge when the overall amounts in question were not that great. His own personal funds from his past life totalled a much greater amount in his hidden safe deposit box in the vaults at the Bank of Zurich, a Muggle concern. It was lucky that the Muggles never asked what was in the safe deposit boxes their clients hired. Even so, Sarasvat had sealed his box with magical wards and passwords as well as the Muggle key system. He was still trying to work out if there were any hidden assets when the front door wards went off and Ziny popped into the library, wrapped a long fingered hand around his upper arm and apparated them up to his bedroom before Sarasvat could protest.

She tried to push him into bed but the young man resisted, the ledger still clutched to his chest. They were still tussling when the door burst open and Whicken stomped in, his wand drawn. He began a bellowed '_stupefy'_ even as Sarasvat threw up a silent _Protego_ around himself and the house-elf.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?" the older man snarled when his attempt to subdue the young intruder failed.

"You know who I am, _Uncle_, or at least, I think you do," Sarasvat teased with a wicked smile, not bothering to draw his own wand. He had the man's measure and he was nowhere near as powerful as Sarasvat himself, never mind with the added extra magical ability and knowledge his past life had gifted him.

"I know who you are supposed to be, but he is dead! I killed him myself and I will kill you too before I allow an intruder to try and usurp my place! I have worked too hard and risked too much for that!" he roared and threw himself on his nephew, his hands wrapping around the young man's neck.

Clawing at the thick fingers, Sarasvat struggled to get free. Magically he was superior but physically, he was no match for the man who helped in the blacksmithing quite regularly. Black spots danced before Sarasvat's eyes and he wondered if all his hard work and scheming would come to such an ignoble end. He could feel the cartilage in his neck bending and cracking and knew his death was very close. Then suddenly, he was free!

So much physical abuse on top of too many potions of his own design, and too many physical and mental changes were just too much for Sarasvat's weakened systems and he fainted dead away.

oo0oo

"_Enervate_"

The spell hit him hard and he sat up with a shriek, hands automatically going up to defend his face and throat. Someone spoke gently to him and he blinked, having trouble breathing and swallowing until another spell was aimed at him. He reacted badly, scrabbling backwards along the floor, both hands flailing wildly as he tried to defend himself. A woman in green healer's robes stepped back hurriedly to allow a very familiar face from his old life to step into his field of vision.

"Sarasvat Narsimha Rao?" Kinglsey Shacklebolt asked, bending down to look into the face of the boy who looked dazed and completely out of it. He had dealt with the victims of shock, assault and torture before and this boy was reputed not to be the brightest knut in the pile, so he spoke very gently and slowly.

Swallowing hard, Sarasvat nodded, looking around in confusion, finally recognising where he was and who was with him. His eyes widened as he saw a huddle of robes over by the door, his uncle? He cowered back just a little but then straightened resolutely when he realised the man was not moving at all. Ziny stood bent under the weight of a heavy hand belonging to another very familiar face, Hestia Jones. Ziny looked… triumphant… and calculating despite her lowered head and ears, her long fingers plaiting together nervously as she waited.

"Can you tell us what happened, son?" Shacklebolt asked, dragging the boy's wandering attention back to him.

"I… My uncle… He came in saying I was not me, that I was an intruder and that he had already killed me. I… I don't understand why?" He made his voice sound puzzled and uncertain as he bit his lip. "Then he grabbed me and… I tried to get away but… I don't remember anything else." He was amazed when he even managed a chin-wobble and a tear.

"That's fine, don't be upset, nothing to hurt you now," Kingsley assured him with professional patience. "Do you object to us taking a memory from you? Do we have your permission to cast _tempus fugit_ and record the outcome?"

"Yes… yes, of course," Sarasvat stammered, then glanced over at his house-elf. "Why are you holding Ziny? She wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

"The house-elf came to get us and she confessed to the murder of your uncle," Hestia said compassionately.

"No-o, she wouldn't do that, she is my house-elf, my Zinanny!" he exclaimed angrily. "You can't hurt her, let her go, she's old and…"

Auror Jones quirked a smile and let the docile old house-elf go. She wasn't surprised when the elf ran to the boy and hid its face in his lap, long arms wrapping around his waist. "I is sorry, Little Master, he is going to killed you, I not let him hurt my Little Master! I just pulled his hands off and he went backwards, and he just stopped moving. He neck went crack like a chicken's nasty old baduncle, making my Little Master go all blue and gaspy. Not hurt Little Master, Ziny protect Little Master, promised old Master, I did, promised on the Blood! I not let him hurt Little Master!" she wailed, banging her head on Sarasvat's knee in self-punishment.

Sarasvat's eyes widened and he squashed her face into his thigh to hush her up. "She doesn't know what she is saying; she's old, very, very old."

"That's alright, son, we'll soon see." Shacklebolt assured the now frightened young man as he and Jones motioned the two out of the way and cast the spell over the room.

_The ghostly figures played out the drama before the watchers' eyes. Ghost Whicken drew his wand and denounced ghostly Sarasvat who countered his magic but was defeated by muscle power. Sarasvat watched his eyes roll up and his face turn blue before ghost Ziny flung herself on his uncle's back, her claws digging into his face. He tossed his nephew aside and grabbed for the house-elf, holding her out by the neck. _

_Suddenly an even smokier image of Sarasvat appeared and plunged a hand into Whicken's chest, his face twisted in fury._

"_Oh no, you don't! You have starved and drugged, poisoned and killed me once but you aren't going to hurt me again."_

_Whicken gasped and arched high as the real ghost - _of accidental magic, Tonk's surmised in her report _- stopped his heart. It then went over to the unconscious house-elf and roused her, bent and kissed her cheek then returned to his body and seemed to melt back into the still young man, - _accidental magic returning to its master, Kingsley's report summarised_. - The house-elf hurried over to rouse her master, then popped out while the boy lay on the floor gasping._

"It looks like a pretty definitely a case of self-defence. If the house-elf has been charged with a Blood Oath to protect you, then she would lie to try and protect you to the best of her abilities, so don't blame her. If your accidental magic took a separate form to protect you, and it really looks as if it did, then the law states that it was an Act of Accidental Magic and no charges will be laid. We will present the memory to the head of the Magical Law Enforcement Office and have a ruling made as soon as possible. However, at this point, I think you are reasonably safe to leave at home, not exactly a desperate man," Shacklebolt concluded with heavy-handed humour as the spell ended. "Any idea why he turned on you like that or why he threw such odd accusations? Did it have something to do with your magic's reactions and pronouncements?" the Auror asked shrewdly.

Sarasvat looked bewildered and upset, playing on their perception of him as a simpleton. "I have no idea; what was that thing? Why did… What happens now?"

"Do you have any other family?" Hestia asked compassionately.

"In India, yes, I have a great Aunt and Uncle."

"Fine. We will be in touch on the ruling or to arrest you, whichever is decided by the Wizengamot's representatives. If you need any help settling your uncle's affairs, you can contact the Magical Law Enforcement and we can give you advice, point you in the direction of honest solicitors, that sort of thing."

"Thank you, I appreciate it," Sarasvat assured them, as he saw them and his uncle's body being carried out.

Ziny shivered and glanced up at her master, a puzzled and unsettled look in her eyes. "Little Master, you is not my Little Master and yet now you is. The smoke Master was my Little Master but he went into you and now… Ziny is confused!" The house-elf began to wail and bang her head on the floor hard enough to make the boards bounce.

Sarasvat hurried over and grabbed her, lifting her into his lap as he sat on the bed. "Ziny stop! Listen to me, please. This is a secret, a big, big, very big secret."

The house-elf shivered but stopped her row, one ear rising slightly. "I's listening, Little Master."

Sarasvat took a deep breath. "You're right; I am not your original Little Master. No, listen now. Many weeks ago, I heard a rumour when I was someone else, about a boy who was being mistreated. So I came to see what was happening. But I found he was not being mistreated, he was dead, Ziny, and you know it! He was dead and Uncle Whicken was using magic to make him seem alive."

Ziny began to rock and weep, her head nodding, as she confirmed his words. "Poor Little Master, I not want him to go but… Then he gets better, yes he does, but he is different…"

"Yes, Ziny, because that was me looking like Little Master and pretending to be Little Master. When I came here, I just thought I would see what had happened to Little Master but then he… decided I was going to be him, forever. He sent his magic into me, Ziny. You can check that for yourself, I know elves can see magic and tell who is who by their magical core. Look now, Ziny, and see who I am."

The house-elf stopped snivelling and slid off his lap to face him, her eyes still watery and pale. For a moment she simply studied him, then a bolt of magic engulfed him, sliding easily through all his defences and gently stroking his magical core. Something rose in him to meet her, something part and yet apart from his own magic and suddenly Sarasvat realised that his cover story was nothing but the plain, honest truth. The original Sarasvat had given him his approval, blessing and magic and was more than willing to have him take over his life and live it to the best of his ability. The revelation made him gasp as the house-elf withdrew and flung herself into his arms.

"My Little Master, really my Little Master! I is so glad, so glad, so glad!"

oo0oo


	5. Sarasvat Narsimha Rao part II

It was a lot easier than Sarasvat thought to organise a funeral, set his uncle's affairs in order and sell off the smithy to the manager, who made a fair deal for the place. The fact that both his parents' wills bequeathed everything to him, and oddly enough, so did his uncle's, certainly smoothed the way. The MLE office had contacted him and declared his actions to be self–defence, so he was free to do as he liked, including leave the country if he wanted to. He contacted his aunt who was delighted to have him come and stay as soon as possible; his elf, too. In a matter of a few days, he was packing everything he owned into a trunk which he shrank and handed to Ziny for transport.

An international Portkey took him out of the country to Milan, Italy, where he was to change Portkeys. He had arranged a few days' stop-over for himself and Ziny and together they went to the Mediterranean Sea to a windy cliff top high above the beautiful ocean. Ziny cradled the stone that used to be her Little Master and very carefully levitated it far out into the jewel blue waters, allowing it to slowly sink into the placid deeps. They both had decided that this was the best place to lay the body to rest, a mixture of beauty, grace and far away, perfect for their needs.

After a stay in the best of hotels, they rose at dawn and arrived in New Delhi early the same morning. It was July and the heat hit like a hammer, the humidity high enough to make Sarasvat's plain black travelling robe feel like a portable sauna. Ziny Summoned the baggage with a pop and clung to his leg as the crowds swirled around them, people in white outfits, pill-box hats and turbans pushing and yelling and overwhelming them in the cacophony of strange smells and sounds. A hand tried to sneak into Sarasvat's robes to liberate his purse but the spells he had automatically cast over himself burned the hand, making the small boy yelp and melt away before Ziny could stun him. Hands pushed fruit, spices, glasses of liquid, and snakes in his face as he glanced around in bewilderment.

He was about to pull his wand and start blasting when a tall, white-robed man roughly cuffed away the beggars and sellers, clearing a space around him by his presence alone. He said something in a foreign language which made Sarasvat blink and shrug, then roll his eyes as he sneered in disgust. "Do you not know any civilised language?" the man asked in accented English.

"I speak English, French and German," Sarasvat replied stiffly.

"But not Hindi, obviously!" He muttered some more, then huffed in a most put-upon way. "I suppose you know how to Apparate, do you?"

Sarasvat glared and nodded stiffly, allowing his hand to be taken and the destination to be placed into his consciousness. His guide Apparated without another word, leaving Sarasvat and Ziny to follow, whether they were ready or not.

"Pleasant chap, wouldn't you say, Ziny?" Sarasvat sniffed in disdain and Apparated to the destination he had been given, the house-elf popping the baggage after him.

The courtyard was tiled and a fountain bubbled in one corner. Charms cast over the area dropped the humidity to bearable and the temperature down to a comfortable 24 degrees centigrade. Girls and women sat at one side under an awning that protected them from the relentless sun. They stopped to stare at the black-clad stranger who had Apparated into their midst, a rush of whispered twittering making them sound like a flock of exotic birds as some of the older women pulled their scarves over their faces and hid behind their hands. Sarasvat inclined his head slightly before a noise at the far end of the open area made him turn, as he loosened in his wand in its holster. A very old woman was being helped into the sun by a pair of slightly younger women, five or six white-clad men on her heels, and his erstwhile guide in their midst. The women came forward, the middle one holding out a hand in welcome. Sarasvat cast a discrete translation spell over himself and his house-elf before going forward but the old woman introduced herself as his great Aunt Jalaja, in impeccable English.

"I am very pleased that you could come, my nephew," she said graciously, taking the arm he offered and leaning lightly upon it. "Your English uncle was reluctant to allow you to travel here by yourself and he could not take leave of his business on such short notice. Your great Uncle is very ill and we have been waiting for you to arrive."

Sarasvat blinked, then smiled tentatively. "Indeed, Uncle Whicken was always reluctant to allow me out of his sight for more than a couple of hours…"

"And this is supposed to Protect our family when my uncle dies? This puling foreign brat with milk drool still dripping from his chin?" The oldest of the five men snorted disdainfully, in Hindi.

"Rushil! You forget yourself!" his aunt snapped, command in her very stance.

"I forget nothing!" All four men behind him drew their wands, the speaker smirking as he stepped back out of the way.

Reacting, rather than thinking, Sarasvat threw up a _Protego_ around himself and his aunt, his wand dropping into his hand as he shook her off his left arm and gestured sweepingly. The silent spell slammed into their sides, the wind whipping up dust into their eyes and their curses splashed wildly on his shield. There was power there but nothing extraordinary as Sarasvat used his wand to cast a whipping curse, ripping wands away and tossing them onto the roof where Ziny promptly popped and collected them in an instant. His cutting and binding curses felled the four guards leaving the spokesman on his feet, but only just.

"You want him alive or dead, Aunt?" he snarled, his wand pointing unerringly at the older man's heart.

His aunt smiled slightly, eyeing her second cousin with contempt. "Well, Rushil, do you think you can take my nephew on your own without your bully boys at your heels? Or will you and yours swear fealty to the new right hand of the Head of Family?"

Rushil snarled silently but went to his knees and touched his forehead to the tiles. "I bow to your power and will serve at your heels, Oh Defender of the Family," he intoned with as much sincerity as a cat promising not to steal the cream.

Sarasvat flicked his wand and Rushil stiffened in horror as a wordless force gripped him with implacable strength. "I will take your magical word as your bond," he said graciously, a hard glint in his eyes as his magic held the older man's magical core in chains of potential, making his word his binding promise.

Horrified, Rushil shivered and rose hurriedly, backing away. "Ho-how did you do that?" he stammered. "How is it possible to force me to obey you?"

"Oh, don't you know? It's magic!" Sarasvat's sarcasm twisted his features into a feral grin until there were echoes of an older, harder man in his face, if anyone knew what to look for.

"Enough banter, you must come and meet my husband, your uncle," Aunt Jalaja murmured, deep satisfaction in her voice as she guided her nephew through the fallen opposition and into the dim, cool recesses of the house. Rushil's faction had been the loudest and brashest, influencing the young heir to the family away from the council of cooler, wiser heads. This unknown nephew was still unsure enough to be greatly influenced by his dying uncle, and by her dictates which actually ran her husband. She had always been the power behind the throne and her husband had always respected that, knowing his own limitation. "You will need some proper clothing too, perhaps lemon will be a good colour for you, and blue, of course. I have put aside an apartment for you in the northern wing so it will be cooler for you and assigned you a man and maid servant to help your house-elf. We do not really keep house-elves much, finding younger members of the lower family ranks to be just as useful and usually just as loyal in their service."

"You use people as slaves?" Sarasvat was aghast.

"No, silly boy, paid servants; they pay for their meals and accommodation, the clothes on their backs and the educations of themselves and their children with their service to the Family and the House, in whatever capacity they are most suited for."

It sounded a lot like slavery to Sarasvat but he managed to keep his mouth shut as they travelled the corridors and courtyards of the huge sprawling multi-storied complex that was the House of Rao.

Jalaja chatted soothingly as they ascended a curved staircase to the upper levels of the house, a huge rambling place with lots of people silently flitting about. Women and girls peeped out of doorways and then disappeared with a flirtatious giggle or grin. Boys in long white shirts and baggy white pants ran past on various errands, eyes flicking up to flash over his features, then instantly cast down. Old men and women appeared and made no pretence about staring at him in curiosity before bowing to their small party and disappearing again.

"Everyone wants to have a look at the new Defender of the Family," Jalaja assured him gently when she realised her nephew was somewhat uncomfortable with the attention. "Did you receive any of the letters I sent you?" When Sarasvat shook his head, she sighed. "I see; then you have no idea of what is expected of you, do you?"

"No, I am afraid not. My English uncle and I did not get on and he tried to poison me on a number of occasions. He almost killed me, and my magic went wild to kill him first."

"Ooh, you are a strong one, then? Good. We can use that strength. Our family magic is not exceptional and we do not have the resources to employ a teacher. Oh, money is no object, but trust is. Finding someone we can magically Bind to our family would not be easy, although I do believe you could do that for us. No matter! Here are the rooms I have had prepared for you. Relax, rest a while and later I will send someone to guide you down to dinner." She bowed gracefully and left him to explore his new suite in his own time.

oo0oo

After a night's sleep, Sarasvat again found himself in the company of his aunt, being lectured in what was expected of him as they traversed the long corridors of the sprawling household once again. He had barely left his suite as he had managed to get lost the first time and there were so many people who stopped and stared very rudely, it was too disconcerting. Oddly enough, the real Sarasvat, who's magic now augmented his core, did have a certain amount of influence and it showed in his discomfort in crowds as he had never felt so in the past.

"Because your mother was English, you cannot inherit any of the family wealth, only the wealth of your father's and mother's. However, your father's eldest brother, my husband, is the Defender of the Family, which means we look after the main line of the family, protect them and nurture them until they can look after themselves and everyone else. We watch their backs, give advice, and make sure they do not commit foolishnesses that would endanger the family standing. Your father was the youngest brother, nearly twenty-five years younger than Sarasvat, your uncle. As we were unable to have children of our own, your father named you after his brother and father as was proper. Now that your uncle is old and dying, and all the uncles in between have been killed, you are now the oldest living Defender of the Family. Therefore, it is now your hereditary duty to protect your eldest cousin, Azeez, until he is old enough to take up his position as Head of the Family."

"And how old is Azeez?" Sarasvat asked, his brain reeling from the overload of information he was receiving.

"Azeez is fifteen and will need your help and defence for another three years."

"And the welcoming committee?"

Jalaja laughed. "Your cousin, Rushil, and his cronies. Rushil is the next in line for the position of Defender and he takes that position very seriously. But he is rash and boorish, not at all schooled as yet, despite being nearly twenty-five. You are obviously the more magically powerful of the two, which is good, and you are young enough to be trained for the position. Rushil is physically strong and well trained in the martial arts, both with weapons and without. He will be able to school both you and Azeez in the fighting techniques he excels in."

"And if I don't want to take up the position?" Sarasvat asked softly as they entered a new set of rooms and approached a long, low bed where a very old man lay as still as death.

"Then you must do your duty to the Family until Rushil can be schooled or your cousin Azeez is old enough to take up the reins," the old man murmured, eyes incredibly alive, opening to pin Sarasvat to the spot.

"This is your uncle Sarasvat, my husband," Jalaja introduced, hurrying across to kneel and carefully fold the coverlet back into perfect smoothness over her husband's chest.

The old man smiled uncertainly at her and glanced about for a few seconds before turning his attention back to Sarasvat. "Nice to see you again, Vati, did you enjoy your trip to Jakarta?"

Sarasvat opened his mouth, then paused and smiled. "It was a great trip, lots of things to see and do," he replied non-committally.

"Yes, yes, but did you see about Miana? Is she suitable as a bride for you or are you still going to run after that little English Miss you seem so fond of? You know Father is not going to allow you permission to marry her, don't you?"

"Now Sarasvat," Jalaja began, but was silenced by a solid glare

"Who are you, old woman, and why are you fussing around me?" he demanded querulously.

"Sarasvat, it's me, Jalaja, your wife. Try to remember now. This is not Vati, but his son Sarasvat, your nephew, who has returned to become the Defender of the Family while you are… hurt. You remember that Azeez is not old enough to look after the family by himself and we both decided that we had to send for Sarasvat rather than allow Rushil to run hot-headed over all our plans and alliances? Remember?"

The old man blinked and blinked again, obviously having a hard time remembering. Then, before his wife could prompt him for a second time he nodded. "Yes, woman, I remember. Will you agree to this thing, Sarasvat my nephew?"

"Very well, until the boy is old enough to take his place," Sarasvat agreed bowing his head respectfully.

Jalaja let out a silent sigh of relief as her husband slowly sank back into the fog he existed in these days. She signalled her nephew who hurried across and helped her to her feet, allowing her to lean on his arm as he escorted her out. The young man even offered her a very neat English handkerchief as a tear momentarily escaped her iron control.

"Is he always like that?" Sarasvat asked gently.

"His mind slips back and forward in time and his body fails him more and more every day," Jalaja confirmed sadly. "He was such a strong, decisive man and so intelligent. To see him so reduced is heartbreaking and I fear for him so much. At least with you in place, the family will not suffer with his decline, unless…"

Sarasvat smiled reassuringly. "I do not know enough about your politics and intrigues to take over so I will desperately need your advice and guidance for as long as you are able to give it," he said rather formally, lifting yet another worry off the old woman's shoulders.

"Sadly, most of the men of this family are traditional, thinking a woman's place is behind and below but they often fail to take advantage of the experience and intelligence a woman can bring to their councils."

Sarasvat snorted. "I have seen how much power and intelligence a woman can wield on many occasions and I am not fool enough to underestimate the 'fairer sex'. The most dangerous person I ever ran into was a woman, completely mad and very powerful, but definitely a woman to avoid at all costs!"

Jalaja chuckled. "You're a good boy, Sarasvat. I swear I will not lead this family into difficult waters and I will always take care of the Family dignity while ever I have breath in my body and a thought in my head."

"Thank you, Aunt Jalaja, I will always take your advice into account before I make any decisions regarding the fate and direction of the Family in the future until my cousin Azeez is old enough to take the Family reins himself."

"Good enough," Jalaja agreed, guiding their steps to the left and down a flight of stairs. "It is now time to meet your cousin Azeez formally. He is a shy boy, much put-upon by his position but a good boy all the same. I hope you will like and assist each other in the future."

oo0oo

Azeez was small and thin with the beginnings of a moustache on his top lip. Sarasvat remembered being just as small and thin when he was that age but he had a growth spurt or two and managed to top six feet at about seventeen. Azeez had eyelashes long enough to make any girl jealous and a dimple that flashed every time he smiled. He greeted his cousin with a traditional bow and very self-consciously waved him to a seat on his right hand. Sarasvat moved over to the cushion, then paused as his aunt moved away to sit behind them both. Servants hurried to pour what turned out to be fruit cordial, not wine, even though it was served in wine goblets. Bowls of dates and grapes came in cool brass bowls for their refreshment before the hoard withdrew leaving them in peace and privacy.

"You are from England?" Azeez asked awkwardly in rather accented English.

"I have lived there for a long time," Sarasvat replied in perfect Hindi, having renewed the translation spell as well as beginning lessons in the language.

"What is it like there?" the boy asked, his enthusiasm driving away the solemnity of the occasion. "Have you ever been allowed to wear blue jeans? Do you have any tee-shirts with pictures on them, and have you ever been to McDonald's and eaten hamburgers and chicken nuggets?"

Sarasvat laughed, a little thrown by the odd questions. He had to delve into much older, foreign, almost Muggle-born memories to remember the answers to these questions. "Yes, I have been to McDonalds and yes, I have both jeans and tee-shirts in my luggage as well as more traditional British robes and 'real' wizarding clothes. Of course, wizarding Britain is still reeling after being under the tyranny of Voldemort and his demise at the hands of the Boy-Who-Lived, so there is not a lot of mingling between Wizards and Muggles."

The boy blinked and clapped his hands, waving everyone out of earshot before he glanced around carefully and leaned in close to whisper. "I have to ask you. Do you have any X-Men comics?"

Blinking in surprise, Sarasvat burst out laughing. "Merlin, kid, you are even more constrained than I was! Okay, I'll make you a deal, you help me negotiate the quagmire of this Indian life and I will make sure you are allowed to experience more than these four walls while keeping you safe from harm and will allow you to grow up, rather than forcing you to be naïve and uneducated in the ways of the world. There may even be jeans and tee-shirts involved."

Azeez nodded his head and bowed slightly. "It's a deal, Cousin," he said formally, then broke into a huge grin. "You are going to be a lot more fun than my Great Uncle ever was! Do you know any real defence magic? Uncle seemed to think I didn't really need to learn anything. All I had to do was rely on him to deal with any threats that might materialise. I think that would be completely embarrassing; okay for the old ways but not for me, you know what I mean? I'm not a coward or anything, I just haven't been allowed to do _anything_ up to now!"

"Oh, I see, like a bird in a gilded cage? Very well, I know more defence magic than you would ever need to learn and I can teach you to defend yourself. However, you will also need to learn how to physically defend yourself and so do I. My British Uncle nearly strangled me even though I was magically very much stronger than he was. It's all very easy to dismiss physical defence but if a situation goes, er, 'pear-shaped' then being able to throw a punch may be the difference between defeat and victory. Our aunt tells me that this is Rushil's strength, so I think we will both be his students there."

The boy burst out laughing and slapped his cousin on the shoulder companionably. "Deal! Maybe we _can _persuade Rushil to teach us. He really is the best I have ever seen at self defence; even Uncle says so. He practices the Dravidian martial art, which is really an old fighting form."

"Can we trust him not to kill us?" Sarasvat asked slyly and Azeez snickered.

"Rushil is a good man, just impetuous. He thinks that, because he is physically strong, that he is always right. You proved that he is magically weak and we just need to prove that we are better at strategy than he to make him come to heel. Have you any idea how to do that?"

Sarasvat stroked his chin, a glimmer of a scheme coming to him. "Maybe…" he mused slowly, then grinned at his newly-met cousin. "But I might have an idea," he murmured, the boys sharing a wicked, conspiratorial grin.

oo0oo

"Look, Rushil, I could make this an order from your Head of Family, but we would rather you taught us as friends and brothers-in-arms against the rest of the Families," Azeez said persuasively as the three of them sat in the courtyard of the family home. "Sarasvat is great at magic and has been teaching me exercises to improve my magical core, make me stronger and more powerful. I can even gather more ambient magic into myself already; as you well know, that is a skill I never had and the family lost many years ago. You saw how he made mincemeat of you and your cadre. He is also teaching me how to think and strategise. He could teach you too, if you were willing to learn. In return, we want to learn how to defend ourselves by physical means, if you will teach us in exchange."

"Rushil, you are part of this family, I am not," Sarasvat murmured sadly. "You are the one who should be Defender, not me, but I flattened you with magic, which is what this culture bases its expectations upon. If Azeez here can lose his wand and still do damage physically, then it will give you and the rest of his forces troop time to join him and may save the day, so to speak."

"And you, Defender of the Family, where do you plan to be?" Rushil scoffed angrily. The advent of this boy had put a crimp in many of his grand plans and he didn't like it one bit!

Sarasvat sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I want to go home. Much as you have welcomed me into the Family and looked after me, I want to go home to England. I like Britain, the cool green fields and the pointless ceremonies the wizarding world all buy into. I love brewing potions and experimenting with various ingredients to see what I can make them do, which is not possible here. Meeting you all and getting to know you has been fun, but I don't plan to stay here all my life, no matter what our Aunt and Uncle wish. However, I cannot leave until Azeez's position is safe and secure. For that to happen you, Rushil, have to learn more magic and Azeez needs to learn how to defend himself against all comers. All three of us need to learn the skills and strategies Aunt and Uncle can teach us."

"I am not learning from a mere woman!" Rushil burst out furiously, only to receive a cuff across the back of the head from his much younger cousin. He bristled angrily but dared not raise a hand against his Head of Family.

"Who do you think runs this family's businesses? It certainly isn't me! I have neither the knowledge or the experience. Uncle has been completely incapacitated for years, pretty much completely senile for the past six. Aunt Jalaja is the driving force and inspiration behind all of our business decisions and we have prospered far more than we might have if our uncle had only been in charge, I do assure you." Azeez leaned forward, tapping his cousin's leg for emphasis, earnestness rolling off him in waves.

"Come on, Rushil, what do you really have to lose? You get a chance to toss your Head of Family and the Defender of the Family all over the courtyard without repercussions. You also have a chance to learn how to improve your magical core thrown in for free…" Sarasvat added softly, a small grin beginning to form as Rushil's expression became dreamy. He did not need his skills as a Legilimencer to read this ambitious man's mind, he had already done that, and discovered he was firmly in support of his cousin Azeez even if he didn't always act as if he gave a toss for the younger boy.

The older man snapped back into the discussion. "Very well, we will give it a try," he said, his expression turning shrewd as he envisaged the advantages he might gain in the arrangement. More magic in his core meant he would be even more powerful and his word would carry more weight both within the Family and outside in the wider world of business. It was a good proposition.

oo0oo


	6. Sarasvat Narsimha Rao part III

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Buckets of Thank Yous:** As always, I cannot say this was a lone effort. Without the input and comments from the BeST this would not be a rounded or finished tale. Having a good beta is vitally important to completing any work and I have the BeST three in the business. Zarathustra46 has her own published work on FFNet and I suggest you go have a really good read. Nathaniel_hp runs Challenges and writes Ron/Remus perfectly, Google him, it's well worth it. The Wicked Bunjhiny doesn't write but that purple pen of hers is a killer and her grasp of punctuation leaves me stunned. (She is so damned good at it!) Thanks again, Guys.

**Author's Note:** Okay, quick note to clear something up. Any spelling, grammar or anything else mistakes in these Notes, thanks and disclaimer are all mine and my purple penned friend has had no input what-so-ever! LOL

Regards

Les

Three years passed in a blink for Sarasvat, training his cousins to duel in the English style he had learned as a Death Eater, learning how to physically defend himself and others from his cousin. All three of them were given lessons and exams on how to conduct a successfully-run business and a family from their aunt who was both knowledgeable and a gifted teacher. Rushil often fought against having a mere woman as a teacher but when he realised just how much knowledge his aunt had to offer, he finally shut up about it and buckled down to learn everything he could absorb. His very keen intelligence drove him to compete with his two younger cousins who were equally intelligent and competitive in their own way. The three spurred each other on to greater heights without really seeming to.

After his sixteenth birthday, Azeez was required to attend a rather prestigious school for the sons of noble families. The only reason the boys, all important members of their respective Families were allowed to attend the Joint Families School was for the purpose of meeting and greeting those who would be their peers in the world of Indian Wizardry for the next one hundred years. There he learned the ancient ceremonies he would have to take part in, the formulas for interacting with other, equally important families in all situations. More importantly, he made fast friends with the boys, building up a network of contacts that would benefit him all his life. For most of the boys it was the first taste of freedom they had ever experienced and they revelled in it.

Sarasvat sometimes acted as Azeez's confidant and often as his father, although the boy was reasonable in most of his dealings. They shared business management lessons with their Aunt, and lessons in courtly manners with their cousin in charge of the ambassadorial functions in the family. Occasionally, as Azeez grew older, they would sometimes slip away with Rushil and his group of warriors to taste the nightlife of the great sprawling city, when they would not get caught. Sarasvat always went along on these trips as he had promised, teaching the younger man how to recognise situations and handle them gracefully. Sometimes Rushil forgot his growing maturity and dragged them all into trouble, but not too often.

Azeez was completely delighted when his two older cousins managed to convince his Aunt that he would be safe enough if they took a week-long trip to Europe without a raft of servants and all the pomp and ceremony that usually accompanied the Head of Family. They first Portkeyed to Italy where Sarasvat took them to the markets in Florence and purchased European clothes, including the long-promised blue jeans and Muggle dress shirts as well as tee-shirts for Azeez. They drank coffee at a street café and watched the artists paint or perform for the public. Then they hopped over to Amsterdam, ostensibly to see the tulips and windmills but where Rushil and Azeez found a high-class wizarding brothel so that Azeez could lose his virginity in safety and learn a little about the art of lovemaking.

"It's not that I want to go to a courtesan, but I can't just go to Aunt Jalaja and ask for someone. It would cause too many high hopes and that's something I really don't want to take on. If I took a Family girl and then discarded her, she would be treated like dirt. So no matter who was given to me, I would have to keep her until she was married off. Could you imagine how terrible that would be?" Azeez asked in horror, his tongue loosened by the other product Amsterdam was so famous for.

"Yeah well, just imagine if you were in Sarasvat's position?" Rushil laughed aloud. "All those girls falling at your feet and all you want is a nice tight bumboy to play with."

One of Sarasvat's eyebrows raised sardonically, a sneer twisting his mouth. "Cannabis obviously makes you crude and uncouth, Cousin," he muttered, looking down his long nose. "Like our young cousin, I do not raise the hope in any female breast, nor do I look to any man who is not willing and who does not make the first approach. And I keep my _proclivities_ to myself, not broadcast them around the Family for the whole world to know!"

"Ouch! That's you told, Rushil," Azeez muttered with a giggle as his older cousins faced off in a battle of wills which Rushil lost and bowed his head in acknowledgement of the reprimand.

There was no further discord on the rest of the trip and they all Portkeyed home at the end of the week, happy, relaxed and in possession of some really fine Italian Muggle souvenirs to pass out to their relatives. On quite a few occasions, Azeez could be spotted wearing jeans and a tee-shirt under his robes, if he could get away with it.

One such foray nearly ended in total disaster when Azeez managed to slip away from both Sarasvat and Rushil and take off with his friends from school. Obviously the boys had planned their outing carefully over a number of weeks as all seven boys had ditched their bodyguards and slipped away in older robes to meet up at the local market place instead of Portkeying straight to the compound where the multi-Family school was housed under strict security.

A pack of 'bandits' caught the seven boys in the marketplace where they had decided to buy vadai for their lunches and found themselves instead being beaten down with sticks. Somehow Azeez managed to send a _Patronus_ to Sarasvat who, with Rushil and a dozen Family security troops, immediately apparated in. 'Unforgivables' were not unforgivable in India and a couple of _Avada Kedravras_ from the two older, extremely angry wizards routed the remainder of the 'bandits'. Those bandits lying in the dirt were checked and found to be too clean and too well groomed under the surface layer of dust and grime.

When the eight sore and sorry boys were escorted home, a surprise awaited them in the shape of the Head of the Waladi family. He was giving his condolences to their aunt on the demise of her Head of Family. In a gesture of _'good will_' he was offering his second son as bridegroom to Azeez's six-year-old sister to '_protect the Family in it's time of need_'. Jalaja heard the pompous man out, giving him as much rope as he needed before turning and very discretely signalling Azeez to come forward.

With aplomb his aunt later praised him for, Azeez managed to give her advice on the marriage proposal his sister had just received, citing the financial and political position the Waladi Family held, their faults, weaknesses and excesses. The man was horrified, even more so when the heads of the eight bandits that had been killed were dumped on the floor in front of the dais. Their bodies had already been cast out to the dogs on the middens, Rushil informed his aunt with relish, ignoring one or two of the Waladi family escorts who stifled gasps of shock when they recognised some of the dead as friends and family.

Nothing overt was said but the offer was very graciously refused and the Waladis sent off with something very hard to swallow for their troubles. Azeez discovered he was not too old to go over Sarasvat's knee for a sound spanking and he was unable to sit down for a few days. His companions in the ill-fated romp were sent home under escort and a number of apologetic and chagrined letters were received from the other families who would have lost Heads or Heirs to Heads in the supposed bandit raid. Rushil's and Sarasvat's timely rescue had saved four scions of various families as well as one Head of Family from their own folly.

oo0oo

Ziny, his last link with his past, was dying. His cousins though he was somewhat mad to be so upset over the death of what amounted to a mere pet, but he would not leave her side until she had expired. They talked a lot in the privacy of a _muffilato_ screen, the house-elf rambling and reminiscing while Sarasvat held her hand and waited, agreeing and nodding as the life force slowly ebbed out of the ancient elf. It did not take long, the small creature seeming too tired to even take another breath, her skinny frame even more skeletal in her last days. It was peaceful at the end, a smile a sigh and she was gone.

The tiny wizened house-elf had requested that her body be placed in the Mediterranean Sea along with her Little Master, if it wasn't too much trouble.

"Little Master came when the bad uncle strangled you and he killed the bad uncle and said I was to serve you faithfully as you had given him release from the bad uncle's spells and he was grateful. When you told me the same I knew it was true and you was a good Little Master to take his place," the elf revealed with a slight smile. "Now I go to join Little Master and you will be Master in this world, yes."

True to his word, Sarasvat had taken her body to the exact same cliff and levitated it into the water in as close to the same place as her Little Master's as he could. His cousins had accompanied him, although not understanding his attachment to a mere house-elf. They had spent a quality holiday by the ocean, swimming, laughing and being young men on holiday rather than representatives of a Family and a Cast with position. All the same, Sarasvat still missed Ziny's fussing and ordering and had not replaced her even yet.

oo0oo

It was a good life but not one that Sarasvat could spend all his life at. He enjoyed the company of his cousins, aunts and uncles, the extended family all living under one roof sharing many tasks. When his aunt started making noises about finding him a bride, he shook his head and refused point blank to even consider the dossiers she handed him of the suitable connections she had found.

"Aunt Jalaja, I will never marry, please understand that; I will never marry a girl who can be hurt or put into such a position as you have been. Oh, I know now that if I had chosen not to accept you and your care, you would have been cast down to the position of lowest slops carrier without a man to call your protector. I would not deign to put any young lady in that position nor would I ever have a daughter who might be put into that situation. It is just too much to ask of any woman."

The old woman stared up at her tall nephew in knowing amusement. "Or is it that you look more easily at men than women?"

Sarasvat felt all the colour drain from his face and the blood roared in his ears as he thought he might faint. He had been so very careful!

"Oh, come now, my child, I know exactly how you watch Sharif and a few of the other men. You never react to any of the young women who approach you in such high hopes, only to have them dashed. While loving men is no crime, it does not give rise to heirs and descendants. If you take a wife and have a child for the sake of the Family, you can always satisfy your needs with one of the boys who are also so inclined, outside the marriage."

"Oh, very convenient! And how does the poor girl fare in all of this; is she made into a laughing stock by her unfaithful husband?"

"That is how it is done in our circles, or didn't you know? As long as there is no scandal, then no criticism is levelled at anyone." His aunt carelessly shrugged.

"No, I will remain single and I am going to return to England as soon as Azeez is confirmed next week. He is ready for his place in the world and to hold him back would only cause resentment. Rushil is his friend and his true Defender and I will pass the baton to Rushil at that ceremony, too." He held up his hand as his aunt made to protest. "Azeez will hold you as his counsel and will not cast you off. We spoke of it, all three of us, when our uncle died last year and planned for the exchange. I know this is not of your scheming but it is necessary that the Family develops and learns to think for itself, yes?"

Jalaja snorted and shook her silver head. "When you came to us all those years ago, I thought, 'here is a tool easily trained to hand', but since then I have found that you play your own games and use your own strengths to strengthen and train others. Rushil has grown from a stupid, rash tool into a brave and thoughtful man. Azeez has grown into a bright, intelligent and cunning young man worthy to take his father's place, and that is due to your teachings. You were always so much older and wiser than your apparent age. It seems your English uncle did a lot to make you as you are and we should be grateful."

Sarasvat bowed his head but did not disabuse her of the idea. The only creature who ever knew he was not what he seemed had been Ziny, who had died last year of sheer old age.

oo0oo

Sarasvat had never seen a white elephant up so close before and if there hadn't been such a wide audience, he might have back-pedalled quite fast. As it was, he, Azeez and Rushil had to climb up into the howdah and take their places for the ceremony of Ascension. The whole Family was assembled, all dressed in their best, from the youngest baby to the oldest man, from the poorest slop carrier to the soon to be Head of Family. For weeks people had been arriving from all corners of India and even from around the world, bringing gifts and tributes. The kitchen staff had been set to cooking more food than Sarasvat had ever seen in one place at one time, the costs soaring as the hoard of Family all headed back for the ceremony.

Incense and aromatic oils had to be secured, silks and pearls acquired for traditional dress robes and ceremonial costumes for the main participants. Seamstresses and tailors had been hard at work day and night as the last day of the new moon approached and Azeez's eighteenth birthday roared upon them. Even more astounding, both Rushil and Azeez were to be married just before the ascension which added yet another layer of intricate ceremony and protocol to the long list of traditional ceremonies they had to cater for.

Azeez was to marry Pari Kumar, the sister of one of his long-time friends with whom he had gone to school. Madhu had been one of the boys in their ill-fated adventure to the bazaar, to be saved by Sarasvat and Rushil. That act of bravery on the part of Family Rao had caused Family Kumar to propose they make a firm and high level connection between their families. Azeez had agreed as he and Madhu were very good friends and Madhu's sister was not exactly a complete stranger to Azeez. She was a pretty girl of sixteen, slim and graceful, well trained in the arts of dancing and painting, and a very good match for Azeez.

Rushil's marriage proposal had also stemmed from the rescue, Family Krishna proposing to contract the daughter of their family Ambassador in acknowledgement of Rushil's rescue of their Scion of Family, Azeez's friend Tarak. Neha Krishna was a sturdy woman, a few years older than Rushil but very pretty with a shrewd light of intelligence in her eyes. She had already proved skilled in handling and influencing her husband-to-be. A match made in heaven, Azeez and Sarasvat teased their cousin regularly but he was too taken with the girl to rise to the bait.

There had been a number of proposals for Sarasvat too but he had steadfastly refused to take any one of them seriously even the most lucrative. Azeez had threatened to order him but when Sarasvat used the counter-threat of leaving immediately, the young man had backed down and even apologised.

"I just don't want you to go away!" Azeez whined, acting like a seven-year-old, rather than seventeen.

Sarasvat shook his head. "Don't be silly, Az, I will only be a Portkey away; you know that. You can always come and visit me in England whenever you want to. I will buy a house with lots of bedrooms just for you."

The young man sighed and shrugged. "Still won't be the same, and when will I ever get away from this place! Once I am Ascended to Head of Family, I will be stuck here forever and ever!"

"Oh, you poor, poor, badly-done-by child!" Sarasvat teased, making his younger cousin slap his arm in exasperated amusement.

Of course, today, faced with an elephant, Azeez had nothing but teasing revenge on his cousin who was arrayed in the traditional dress of a Defender of the Family, golden breastplate, greaves and turban wrapped helmet. A long sword hung at Sarasvat's side and his wand was conspicuously holstered across his chest ready to draw in an instant. Two long peacock plumes hung from the back of his turban, waving in the breeze and threatening to get crumpled if caught on everything, especially when the elephant tried to pick one of them off.

Rushil rescued his traditional garb with a laugh and an experienced hand, feeding the ceremonial elephant a piece of something from his pocket. They had assembled in the temple courtyard to make the procession back to the house and take possession of it. It was all very ceremonial and based in the ancient days of conquest when a triumphant hero rode his war elephants into the enemy compound after slaughtering and enslaving all the remaining members of the defeated house. Instead of being arrayed in chains of iron, the rest of the household would be arrayed in paper and flower chains, garlands hanging from the eaves and lucky pictograms drawn on the flagstones.

After a great deal of thought, it had been decided that Sarasvat would act the part of the previous Head of House's Defender and hand over the reins to the new, younger Head of House, even if Rushil was actually older than him. Once Azeez was installed, then his wedding ceremony was to take place. Barely a week later, it would be Rushil's turn to be wed. All three of them had gone to the temple the night before and were now ready to commence the ceremony, even if it did involve getting onto the blasted elephant.

The mahout reached down and held out a hand, Rushil lifted Sarasvat's foot and put it on the elephant's bent leg and, with a heave and a push from below, Sarasvat suddenly found him self high above the assembly of priests sitting beside his cousin in the jewelled and mirrored howdah. Rushil leaped up neatly and without a problem, his smug expression wiped away when the elephant began to walk, tossing him off-balance. His cousins laughed as he stumbled into his seat and they left the temple yard, all three ducking reflexively as the arch barely seemed high enough to let them out. Children ran in the elephant's wake as the three young men tossed sweetmeats and coins to them. Men and women bowed and offered prayers, brushing the elephant's painted sides for luck as the procession wound through the streets toward House Rao.

The main portal gates, large, iron studded and solid, were thrown open on this most special of days, a curtain of flower strings guarding the open gateway. The elephant strode majestically through and came to stand under the first floor balcony, the howdah exactly level with the flooring. Rising, Azeez stepped onto the henna-painted wood, his bare feet picking up the dye patterns as he made the traditional pause and sweep with his eyes. Below, the ranks of family were kneeling on the flagstones, the higher ranks on small cushions, the lesser ranks on cloths or even on the bare stone, heads bowed as their new Lord and Master took in the sight.

Sarasvat stepped out of the howdah and took his position at his cousin's shoulder, ready to defend him against all comers, or so it would have been in times long past. Rushil stepped out last and took his place at Azeez's left shoulder, equally straight and keen-eyed. The Mahout gently urged his beautifully caparisoned elephant away from the balcony and off to the stall prepared for it while the ceremony commenced. Still on display, the three young men cast haughty looks over the kneeling, bowing crowd as Aunt Jalaja came forward with the two girls his cousins were going to marry and gracefully knelt before them.

As he was not about to claim a girl, Sarasvat raised his aunt to her feet while his cousins did the honour for their prospective brides. The girls lead them all inside away from the eyes of the crowd to where bowls of water were set out to wash their feet and hands. Plates of dates and saffron rice were then presented and each young man took a taste, symbolising their agreement to share the food and the fortunes of the Family from then onward. Finally Sarasvat rose and held out the Baton of Defender to his cousin who went on one knee and took the length of gold leaf and painted wood in both hands. The sword and the golden breastplate were then passed over, and Sarasvat stood only in his silk robes while Rushil wore the heavy plate ceremonial garb that looked so much better on him.

His part in the service done, Sarasvat carefully led his aunt away to a back room where she had a chance to rest while Sarasvat peered over the pierced work screen to watch the rest of the ceremony, thankful that he was no longer on display for all to gawk at.

"You will be at the feast as you are part of the upper staff of the Family," his aunt reminded him with a smile. "Azeez will be married at the high point of the festival tomorrow and Rushil the day after. Then you are free of your duties to the Family. You've done well, Sarasvat, even though it is not your nature to be the centre of these formalities. You have brought your cousins up to be fine young men and I am proud of you," she murmured, as he returned to her side, astonished at the words of praise that were so unusual and unlooked-for.

"It wasn't exactly an onerous duty," Sarasvat murmured, feeling himself blush but his Aunt just smiled and patted his hands.

"Take the compliment and smile, Child," she teased, dropping a kiss on his cheek and laughing at his squirming. "Have you everything packed and ready for your move? You know I don't want you to go, don't you? I shall miss you very much, my child. Promise you will write regularly and come visit me as often as you can, won't you?"

"Yes, Aunt Jalaja, I promise."

oo0oo

Nothing had changed, or so it seemed, when compared to his older, borrowed memories. Looking around the Spartan room, Sarasvat smiled and prodded the single bed with a finger. The wardrobe was scarred and battered with the long-term abuse of students. The floorboards were so well used, the polish had worn away from the high-traffic areas. The stair risers were worn to hollows in the middle of the treads while the edges still looked new. The halls and lecture theatres of the Royal College of Potions Makers looked and smelled exactly the same; the library was just as silent and dusty as it had been all those years ago when he had first attended the School. Those not rich enough to pay full tuition still slaved away in the Great Hall once a week making bulk potions for St Mungo's or laboured in the greenhouses at the adjoining Royal Agricultural College for the same purpose.

He Portkeyed back to England just yesterday after the month long celebrations that marked his cousin's ascension to Head of Family and both his cousins' weddings. His Aunt had made sure his place at the college was booked and paid for, his accommodation was also ready and he had all the textbooks and ingredients he could possibly need for the next three years. Azeez had assured him that if he needed anything else, all he need do was Floo call and it was his. As his NEWTs were on file with the Ministry, there was no need to sit an entrance exam and he was ready to begin his training to become a Potions Maker. After giving it careful thought, he had decided to pass his Honorarium exam within those three years but wait until he was somewhat older before going for his Mastery. After all, Severus Snape was the youngest person to gain mastery ever and who was he to attempt to destroy that record?

To amuse himself, he took on the tutoring of a young Pureblood who had failed his NEWTs. The former Hogwarts student had done well in everything except his potions which, it seemed, suffered when Professor McGonagall had to employ a less qualified wizard to teach the subject. Unfortunately, Gillis McLaughlin was a lively young man who didn't take anything seriously, including his studies. He refused to call Sarasvat by name but insisted on calling him Nash or if he was being particularly perverse, Sarah-Vat. Taking the lesser of the two evils, Sarasvat finally allowed himself to be called Nash by all and sundry, the Anglicisation of his name easing his passage in some circles, it seemed.

A year later, Nash was invited out to the small village of Kilbridie in rural Essex where the local potions honorarium was selling his business. It was a mixed business, Muggle and wizarding, in keeping with the nature of the village, one of the many Wizard/Muggle communities that had sprung up in the wake of the Second Voldemort War. The place was badly run-down and in need of a complete restocking of the inventory. Even better, there was a thatched cottage on a parcel of developed gardens a few miles up the road from the Apothecary for his occupation and his growing of raw ingredients for the shop. Under the Apothecary there was a fully equipped, if rather old fashioned potions laboratory, complete with room for experimentation as well as the day-to-day brewing an apothecarist needed to do to keep his stocks well supplied. It was perfect!

A call to Zurich had his gold deposit transferred back to Gringotts, the goblins preferring to keep it in precious metal rather than change it into galleons. The sale went through as Nash finished his training with his Honorarium qualification. He framed it and hung it on the wall as he settled down to rural life amid the small community who welcomed the new, albeit foreign brewer, if not with open arms, then with cautious enthusiasm.

He extended and redecorated Laburnum Cottage to suit his own tastes and restocked the shop with potions of his own creation. He chose to present his concoctions in vials he had out sent especially from his family glassworks in India: exotic, unusually shaped and coloured bottles that made his concoctions look equally exotic and wondrous to the eye. Obviously some of the more staid British citizens refused to purchase those brews and insisted on good old fashioned British medicines, never realising the two types of vials were filled from the same cauldron. He advertised for a shop assistant and was very surprised when a Muggle girl called Mandy proved to be the most adept at dealing with both wizarding and Muggle customers.

It took a couple of years to get the run-down business back on its feet, pulling in business from the surrounding counties. His reputation as a skilled brewer and reliable stockist of fresh and well prepared potions ingredients took time to build. Once he was established, he felt he could take some time to begin his experiments in improving his de-aging potions and making them safer for consumption by the beauty trade, which was starting to become big business now that the War was beginning to fade into memory.

He was quietly inventorying his stock with an eye to replenishment when a blond bombshell landed on his doorstep and blew his bucolic existence all away to hell!

oo0oo


	7. Random Chance Part I

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Buckets of Thank Yous**: As always, I cannot say this was a lone effort. Without the input and comments from the BeST this would not be a rounded or finished tale. Having a good beta is vitally important to completing any work and I have the BeST three in the business. Zarathustra46 has her own published work on FFNet and I suggest you go have a really good read. Nathaniel_hp runs Challenges and writes Ron/Remus perfectly, Google him, it's well worth it. The Wicked Bunjhiny doesn't write but that purple pen of hers is a killer and her grasp of punctuation leaves me stunned. (She is so damned good at it!) Thanks again, Guys.

**Author's Note:** Some old friends make appearances here, hope you like the grown-up versions. Please note, Fred is with us still. Enjoy.

Regards

Les

**Part 3 – Random Chance.**

Brian sat at his favourite table in the café in Oxford, books and notepads spread around him. The café's owners were wizards and didn't mind that his manuscripts, scrolls and grimories were not exactly library books. Even if a passing Muggle spotted him, there were enough robed and book-toting academics around to allow him to fit in. The blend of Muggle and magical, scholarship and youthful enthusiasm, were just some of the reasons he had chosen to settle in Oxford rather than London.

Mercury, the café's owner, refilled his coffee cup again in passing, well used to the young Ward Smith's habits. Every three months the young man would come down and research as if his life depended on it, existing on coffee and toasted sandwiches. Then he would disappear for, well, three months before he returned to do it all again.

Sipping the strong black coffee, Brian grimaced as his stomach protested. He blinked and stared into the cup, then put it aside as his stomach roiled again. Mercury hurried over at his glance and raised an eyebrow as his quiet young patron looked a little green around the gills.

"Too much coffee, not enough food, I think," Brian assured him with a sigh.

"You want some dinner? We have schnitzel and chips or shepherd's pie today."

Brian swallowed on his gorge again. "No, too heavy, got something lighter? My stomach is really rolling."

"Maybe the dieter's special, two bits of crisp bread and a lettuce bun stuffed with cottage cheese, grated carrot, alphalfa sprouts and raisins."

The food was good, the contrast between the different flavours and textures exactly what he needed. "Better than a potion," he assured Mercury as he paid his day bill and apparated home with his research.

He had been madly trying to put Nash out of his mind, burying himself in his work to forget. As soon as he had apparated home after the Jorensecle fiasco, Hermione had been on the Floo to tell him he had a new job in south Wales. Usually he liked to have a bit of a break between jobs but this time it was perfect, something to sink himself into and cut off his speculating brain! Flinging himself into the work, he could ignore the weakness, upset stomach and general tiredness he was still cursed with after his stay in hospital. It really annoyed him that he always felt as if he was about to burst into tears for no apparent reason, another legacy of his break-up with Nash. Stupid man! How could he have savaged Brian like that! How dare he scream and shout! Damned pain in the arse. Brian missed him! But he wasn't about to swallow his pride and go crawling back like a whipped puppy. Oh no, he was not!

Hermione had dragged the story out of him on the second night he had been home, nagging him until he spilled the beans. She had been semi-sympathetic, recognising that he had a right to be upset about being screamed at but also saying Nash had a right to scream at him as he too had been under a lot of stress. Women! The traitor! Ron had looked uncomfortable, especially when a tear escaped Brian's control but he had tentatively agreed that Nash was in the wrong and Brian was right to ignore him; which earned him a clip around the ear from Hermione, who then left in a huff. He and Ron had then drunk a couple of butter beers but when Ron had brought out the Firewhiskey, Brian's tender guts had rebelled strenuously. Their drunken night of commiseration had been very one sided, Ron getting smashed and Brian pouring him into the Floo back to his darling wife.

The cottage in Wales had been in the Jones family for a few centuries and merely needed two wards re-powered and tweaked. An easy job at a moderately inflated fee for someone of his skill and reputation, Hermione assured him. The initial research bore out the claim, no tricks or traps, just a country home with Gaelic magic-powered protection that was Light in origin and untainted or changed since the day it had been installed.

Driving down in his cute little car, he checked the records stored in the house and listened to the local gossip for a full day. After spending the night in the local pub, he was up bright and early to walk the property's perimeter and touch up the Celtic knot over the lintel. On the second morning, he dressed ceremonially and cut the necessary herbs for the brazier he had to burn, making the podge to trace the knot and renew the connection to the land. All the locals stayed well away from the site so as not to disturb the balance of the magic as Brian paced the perimeter, laid out the runes and incised the necessary knots and wave forms.

Taking out his wand, Brian invoked the land's gods and began the chant before summoning the magic and pointing to the first ley point. His magic rose to meet the land's spirit, then suddenly faltered and twisted in his control as never before. His eyes widened as the land spirit invaded him, ignoring the wildly oscillating barrier that was supposed to keep it away. Stiffening, and rising to his toes, Brian felt his eyes roll back but he did not lose consciousness, simply lost touch with the outer world and saw only the realm of rock and land soul.

The land spirit inspected him, examined his motives, his needs and soul, and delicately picked him apart with no regard to the pain nor injury it did. Then it stopped. Brian had a brief impression of fertility, fecundity and growth; then returned back inside his own body which was twisted and bent, huddling into itself as if to protect his core, which he was. He knew the land spirit was laughing at him, or with him, as he managed to straighten and finish the incantations to renew the wards, helped by the land soul without any further forcing of its bounty.

Weaving his way up a gate post, Brian managed to pull himself together enough to check his work. It was perfect, the Celtic knots still glowing with renewed vigour. It seemed that, whatever had gone wrong, it had not affected the end product, turning out even better than his usual efforts. After resting an hour and eating the food he had brought with him, he felt strong enough to shrink his car and apparate home again.

oo0oo

Nash opened the shop and nodded as Mandy hurried in, almost late again. She slipped her white overall over her jeans and top, glancing at the grim expression on his face. By mid morning, she had watched him snap and snarl at good customers for absolutely no reason that she could see. Shaking her head she closed the blinds, dimmed the lights and handed him a cup of tea before pointing to a stool with a determined expression. "Sit! Now what is the matter with you? You are going 'round with a face like a wet week, snapping at the old ducks and generally making a complete bastard of yourself!"

Nash growled at her, then grimaced as she refused to back off. Trying to intimidate Mandy was a fruitless effort as she had brothers who would easily make two of him. She had held her own against their arguments without effort. "Nothing! Oh, Brian and I had a fight, that's all. He was so sick and when I tried to tell him how he had been foolish, he stormed out and disappeared."

"Oh, and did you yell at him like you are shouting at me? You know you tend to get really snippy when you are upset or frightened!"

"I do not!" he bellowed, smacking his open hand onto the counter and making the cups rattle.

Mandy shot an eyebrow up and shook her head. "Yes, you do," she contradicted softly.

"I do n… Okay, okay, I did get a little testy, I suppose, but he almost died! He was careless and the magic almost devoured him from the inside out!"

Mandy shrugged carelessly. "I have no idea what might have happened but it's a hazard of his job and if you do a dangerous job you sometimes get hurt. Same with us; we can get hurt in our work whether we like it or not. I seem to remember a certain Potions concocter being carted away to the local doctor's last year when a cauldron of brew blew up in his face. How many times have you mixed up a batch of stuff with nary a problem? Then when something goes astray, you could have avoided it; yet you screwed up and the shit hit the fan! Did anyone rant and rave at you for your carelessness or forbid you to ever make potions again? Of course not! Merely patched you up and sent you home with something to help finish the job of healing, yeah?"

"Oh, damn it all, you had to be reasonable, didn't you?" Nash accused and sipped his tea, pulling a face when he recognised chamomile and honey. "So what do you think I should do, Miss Lonely Hearts?" his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, I don't know, send him a card saying sorry, or call him or something. Is he worth getting back or is he just some bit of fluff to turn free without effort? If he merits the attempt, then go for it, my man." The girl saluted him with her own cup of tea and grinned when he sighed and slumped, elbows hitting the counter as he finally relaxed.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to send him an owl," Nash murmured grudgingly, ignoring the girl's small victory dance as she ran around reopening the shutters and flicking the lights back on.

"And perhaps some flowers or chocolates or something nice," she added slyly as she shifted a display rack of hair accessories into a better position.

Nash huffed and grumbled but did pull out parchment and quill to write a letter.

oo0oo

Apparating home, Brian emptied his pockets, downed a pint of milk and flopped onto the sofa. He was sound asleep in seconds. An undisclosed time later, he woke to something tapping on his head. Blinking wide eyes, he came face to face with a tawny owl that appeared to be sitting on his chest. Only the shrunken box on its leg stopped Harry cursing the thing away in his sleepy befuddlement.

"Oh, for me… owl post… okay…"

If owls could roll their eyes, the tawny would have, shaking its leg impatiently until Brian fumbled the box free. Without waiting for a treat, the owl took off in a flurry of feathers. Casting a wandless revealing spell, Harry discovered no traps or charms and carefully enlarged the box, flipping off the lid. His eyes widened in delight when he saw a box of Honeyduke's finest assortment and a tub of Haagendazs ice cream under freezing charms. He couldn't help himself, he _accioed_ a spoon and sat there, still sleep-rumpled, downing half the choc-mint ripple with white chocolate pieces before he flopped back with a sated smile. "Bloody man, he knows just where to hit a guy when he's… Thank you, Nash," he murmured aloud as he rose and stretched, taking the chocolate and the ice cream into his small but neat kitchen. Very few people knew about his Muggle ice cream fetish and Nash was one of the select.

At the bottom of the box was a piece of parchment with the word 'Sorry' carefully scribed across the front. Inside, the note was short and to the point. "Will you have dinner with me at Armando's tomorrow at seven?"

Brian smiled and quickly wrote a 'yes, please' on a fresh piece of parchment and summoned his own owl, one of Hedwig's great grand-children. That done, he made some real dinner, then finished off the ice cream for dessert.

oo0oo

Armando's was a bistro tucked in the back streets of York that they had discovered one weekend a few months ago. It catered to all tastes with some perfect meat dishes, wonderfully tasty vegetarian dishes, and was a hit with both the wizarding and Muggle communities. The table Nash had booked was discrete, privacy charms making the booth cosy with candles and flowers. Brian smiled as Nash rose and pulled his chair for him, the old fashioned courtesy making a few eyebrows rise before the screens went up.

"How have you been?" Nash asked before Brian had time to do more than glance around in satisfaction.

"Not too bad, a bit tired and run down, and liable to drop off to sleep at the twitch of an eyelid but on the whole, no lasting consequences. And you?"

Nash shrugged sheepishly. "Bad tempered and out of sorts," he confessed. "Look, I always over-react when someone I lo… love is in danger or hurt. I confess, when my cousin Azeez, who is also my Head of Family, ran into trouble, I turned him over my knee and paddled his bare arse for him, big as he was. Rushil, who was to be his Defender, didn't know if he should stop me or help me." The tall wizard smiled as Brian's hearty laugh rang out. Nash liked seeing Brian happy, his eyes sparkling, white teeth flashing. God, he was gorgeous!

Dinner was better than anything Brian had eaten in weeks, probably because he was sitting opposite the most important person in his world. He couldn't believe how much he had missed Nash's slightly sarcastic take on the world and his lively wit that made Brian smile even at the most annoying things.

"…and suddenly the Ministry is trying to make gogimonsters illegal in potions preparation, even though they've been used as an ingredient for years, if not centuries, as an acceptable substitute for human parts."

"What?" Brian asked, a wave of sickness making his stomach roll uncomfortably.

Nash blinked as his dinner partner turned green around the edges. "Are you alright? Sorry, that didn't come out right. Gogimonsters are plants, Brian, just plants that are related to Mandrakes. You know Mandrakes are not anything remotely like humans, don't you?"

"Sorry, yes, of course, I know that. It was just a horrible mental picture that flashed through my mind and of course my stomach has been a bit queasy these last few weeks so… sorry, what were you saying?"

"Nothing too important, just Ministry stupidity reaching greater heights," Nash assured him. "What do you fancy for dessert? How about some Fairy waffles with Belgian ice cream and caramel chip sauce?"

"That sounds sinful! Yes, please," Brian laughed back, his queasiness forgotten. "Do you play Quidditch, I never thought to ask?"

"I have played but I'm not sure it is the same game as the English play."

"That's okay, we're attending a friendly game on Saturday at the Weasley place if you would like to come along. It's a charity event for St Mungo's and a lot of professional players will be there as well as amateurs who love the game. We probably won't get a start, not with people like Draco Malfoy, Oliver Wood and Ginny Weasley there with their professional friends but still, good Quidditch and fantastic food."

"I think that would be fun," Nash accepted and was immediately smothered in kisses by a very excited Brian.

oo0oo

The extended grounds around the Burrow were bursting with people, fair tents, marques and stalls. The Weasley fortunes had increased greatly since the war with the income from WWW and Bill's Curse breaking firm. Arthur's elevated position, Ginny's professional Quidditch salary and Ron's investment dividends had been combined to purchase a lot of the surrounding land. Some of it had been set aside as an animal preserve run by Charlie, the rest was earmarked as a Functions park with a war memorial. Today, it was to serve as a Quidditch stadium for the charity match; later the stadium would serve as a ball room for the charity auction. All the proceeds would go to the Hogwarts foundation for the education of the next generation. A lot of the old families had been beggared by the war or the parents had been killed, leaving the children to fend for themselves. The fund ensured that the children could attend Hogwarts with all the requisite fees, books, clothes, equipment, and a suitable wand. All the parents had to supply was five galleons a term for pocket money, if they could.

To support the scheme, concerts, Quidditch matches, Balls and auctions were held periodically by the committee who were tireless in their efforts to raise money. Most people, when faced with the tag team of Narcissa Malfoy and Molly Weasley, tended to toss in their money pouch and run. Harry Potter always contributed generously, although not in person, his large Gringotts transfer keeping the charity afloat in the early days. Draco Malfoy, once the mess Lucius left was sorted out, also matched the Potter donation, knut for knut. The charity events were now self-sustaining, being an integral part of the post-war social calendar and everyone who was anyone had to be seen attending.

Brian and Nash apparated and stared around in surprise at the numbers gathered there, even though it was barely after lunch and the matches were not scheduled to start until two. A passing hawker sold them a program for the afternoon event, another offered omnioculars and rattlers, sparklers and horns for their supporting pleasure. Laughing, Brian purchased a pair of omnioculars each and passed on the noisemakers as they strolled on, their noses leading them to the food tents where everything from pumpkin pasties to Muggle hotdogs were to be had. Two dragon burgers and two cups of raspberry punch later, they made their way up to their box and were hailed by a sea of red.

"Weasleys at ten o'clock," Brian warned good-naturedly as a small red rocket zoomed in and attached herself to his left leg while a taller, green-haired boy wrapped his arms around the blond's waist. "Uncle Brian, Uncle Brian, did you see? There was a clown who was blowing bubbles so big one of them got stuck around Hugo and lifted him up in the air!"

"Well! However did you rescue him, Rose?" Brian asked, making his eyes wide with horror.

"My Daddy popped the bubble and my Mummy caught him in her arms!" the little girl said self-importantly while the boy rolled his eyes in masterly disdain.

"She is egzajeratin' a huge lot!" Teddy said with a sneer that literally curled his lip right up like a Venetian blind, making him huff and pull it down again before slapping his hand over his mouth.

"Metamorphing completely out of control, Teddy?" Brian asked sympathetically, as the boy hid his face in his hip.

"I grew, two inches…" Teddy began, then glared as a slim, fair girl skipped over and grinned cheekily.

"Then shrank back one," she said in a slightly accented sing-song voice.

"You shut up, Victoire, or I'm telling…" Rose said, turning on her older cousin.

"Now kids, let Uncle Brian get upstairs, will you?"

Rescue was in the form of a brown-haired, well-dressed woman who reached up and dropped a kiss on Brian's cheek, while detaching her daughter and glancing keenly at the tall, silent man at her friend's side. "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger-Weasley, welcome to the chaos we call Charity day."

"Sarasvat Narsimha Rao," he offered, taking her hand and kissing it with a slight bow which made Victoire sigh romantically and Rose roll her eyes. Teddy blinked and straightened, his soft red curls, straightening and lengthening as they darkened to bluish black.

Hermione smiled and glanced at Brian. "Oh, I like this one," she murmured, making both young men laugh.

"So do I," Brian told her in the same loud whisper, making Nash smile back.

"Come and meet the rest of the gang," Hermione said more naturally, shooing the children ahead as she took both men's arms and guided them up the stairs.

Brian had met all the Weasley clan on many occasions, more than any of them actually knew but Nash was slightly overwhelmed by the ever changing crowd of assorted redheads and their spouses. He had a vague feeling of familiarity, left over echoes of memories he had discarded. But, he had made sure he did not know anyone from his old life so that they were all virtual strangers, and so many. He was fascinated with the way the children seemed to gravitate toward Brian, even the baby climbing into his lap and settling to suck his thumb while the adults talked and laughed over his head. Nash was equally content to sit close to Brian, his arm draped lightly and possessively around his shoulders. He was rather surprised when the young boy, Teddy, leaned against his side and began asking a multitude of questions about who he was, where he came from and what he had been doing.

There was a sudden flurry of horns and bells. The stands were soon drowned in a wave of static before a _Sonorused_ voice began to call the audience to order for the exhibition match of the afternoon between the top amateur league team, the Diagon Alleycats, and a team made up of the volunteer professionals. The warm-up game was between the Hufflepuff house team from Hogwarts and a veteran team made up of ex-players from Hogwarts. Ron Weasley was playing keeper, Malfoy was in as seeker, the Weasley Twins were part of the Alleycats and had declined to play so Crabbe and Flint were playing beaters while Bell, Spinet and Bussy were chasers. They were playing a set time match with a limited Snitch so the game would be finished in time to let the main game be played without interference.

The Hufflepuff team was good and defeated the veterans with ease, especially when Crabbe and Spinet collided mid air and both fell off their brooms. Shaking his head, the bulky Crabbe carried Spinet to the sidelines with a rueful expression while Fred went hurrying over to check on his wife. Brian clued Nash in on the plays and ignored his partner's laughter when he leaped to his feet to roar protest at a play called by the ref. Nash was quite content to watch the audience around him, a certain blond in particular, rather than the match, passing his omnioculars to Teddy who seemed enamoured of the three chasers. Hufflepuff won the match by one goal and no one caught the snitch but everyone agreed it had been a fantastically enjoyable match.

When the teams for the main event were run out, the crowd went wild, horns, bells and whistles making enough din to wake the dead. The kids clapped their hands over their ears while screaming at the top of their lungs. Nash thought he might go deaf until Brian cast a muffling charm on him with a merry grin. He was even more surprised when Weasley and Weasley were called as beaters for the Alleycats and another Weasley was called as chaser for the Professionals.

"Aunty Ginny plays for the Wimbourne Wasps and gets lots of money to play a stupid game rather than getting a husband and having lots of kids like a real witch should," Victoire informed Nash gravely when he asked about the names.

Brian covered his eyes and shook his head while Fleur turned bright red and grabbed her daughter, taking her away as Hermione glared at her back.

"Honestly, you would think women were nothing but baby machines the way she and Molly carry on, with nothing to offer the world except their wombs!" she huffed in disgust while Nash flushed and Brian bit his lip to stop his laughter escaping. He had heard that particular rant on quite a few occasions and he still thought its effect on wizards was hilarious.

"Now, 'Mione!" Ron said, grabbing his wife and wrapping her up in a capacious hug, making her squirm and slap his shoulder. "So, who have you guys put your money on? The Cats or the Pros?"

"People are betting on the match?' 'Mione asked, shocked while Nash glanced warily at Brian.

"I backed the Cats to win but the Pros to catch the snitch," Brian replied, pulling out a couple of blue tickets.

"You aren't supposed to bet on these things, it's for charity!"

"So is the betting," Brian assured her quickly. "Half your winnings automatically go to charity so if you win ten galleons, the charity gets five and you get five."

"Win/Win! Whose bright idea was that?" Hermione whistled in admiration.

"Better see Professor McGonagall about that one, and those bloody brothers of mine on setting up the pool," Ron informed them with a smile of fond exasperation.

Five hours later, Brian won sixty galleons, thirty for him, thirty for the charity. The Cats did indeed win by ten points but Ginny Weasley caught the snitch, a quarter second after the quaffle went through the left hoop. Lee Jordan, the announcer, went as wild as ever, his commentating thoroughly professional without ever losing his sheer enthusiasm for the game. As soon as the field settled down by half a decibel, Lee reminded everyone that the auction would be held that night at the Gala Ball and that the Players had donated the game balls and snitch, all autographed by the team members, along with their team uniforms.

"Are we going to the Ball?" Nash asked softly as their party began to gather children and picnic baskets to wend their way home.

"I have to, actually," Brian sighed, snuggling into Nash's side. "One of my carvings is up for auction and I have to tune it to whoever buys it. That's why we had to have our dress robes, don't you know?" The last words were marred by a large yawn.

"Are you going to be able to stay awake that long?" Nash teased, gently carding his fingers through his partner's hair.

"Not much choice, really. Apparate us, please, pretty please."

Nash laughed quietly and complied.

oo0oo

The main hall at the Memorial Centre was lit up like Christmas with lights of a thousand colours and streamers that danced and whirled as prettily as the ball's attendees below. Robes of a thousand hues vied with the lights in a display of exuberant cheer. Music and conversations buzzed and murmured, house-elves circulating trays of canapés and drinks exactly where needed at any one time. People laughed and nodded, danced and chatted, each person eyeing the massed display of things to be auctioned in the very near future.

The donated goods ranged from gift vouchers from various shops, right up to a diamond and pearl tiara donated by the Ministry itself. In between were holidays, arts and crafts, Quidditch trophies and brik-a-brak for a hundred tastes. Brian eyed a delicate glass sculpture with wide, covetous eyes, number twenty six on the placard at its stand. Nash watched him and smirked, surreptitiously signalling a house-elf to place a bid on the card. As there was nothing as crass as an auctioneer at this gala affair, all bids were silent and secret. His reward was a soft smile and a peck on the cheek as they wandered further. Nash saw a modern sculpture of a mer-person, not a graphic representation but an impression of tail, hair, water and fierce protectiveness. It was masterly and he was about to put a bid on it when Brian stopped him with a faint smile.

"If you like it, you will have to have a look at the rest of my work," he murmured, pointing to a discrete description of the work by Brian Wardsmith.

"Yours? You are quite talented."

"It's just in how you apply the magic," Brian shrugged, blushing as he ducked his head.

The ball was in full swing, the band playing, couples dancing. Brian and Nash chanced a dance together in the thickest part of the crowd, which worked. Ron and Hermione caught up with them and the couple found themselves in the midst of the milling crowd known as the Hogwarts lot. Brian grinned as Ginny grabbed Nash and swung him into a vigorous jive, the tall, graceful man handily keeping up with Ginny's spirited and _athletic_ performance. Sitting at the table the party commandeered, Brian laughed heartily as Ron tried to emulate the dance with Hermione and ended up nearly tipping her on the floor to which she was most against.

"Wardsmith?" a voice he knew all too well asked, a pleasantly friendly note amongst the smooth tones. Brian turned to look up at Malfoy. The sharp faced, sharp tongued boy had grown into a handsome and well formed adult, quite a dish, Brian thought briefly before he took the offered hand with a nod.

"Malfoy, isn't it?"

"Indeed. I saw the sculpture you donated and wondered if you take commissions. My wife was most impressed and wanted you to have a look at an area we have at the manor which badly needs something, not sure what."

"Yes, I do take commissions. Here is my card. Owl me when you are free and we will set up a meeting, if that suits," Brian agreed, ignoring Nash as he stepped up and laid a hand on Brian's shoulder possessively. "Malfoy, my partner, Nash Rao."

"Rao? Indian name, isn't it? Interesting place. Come along with Wardsmith some time and have a look at some of the brass and gold work my grandfather collected from the Bengal region years ago. There's quite a few beautiful temple pieces you might like to see."

"My pleasure," Nash replied as a beautifully dressed woman with long blonde hair came to lay a gloved hand on Malfoy's arm."

"Adriana, my wife. This is the sculptor whose work you were so interested in. He will have a look and see if there is anything he can do to rescue your garden."

The woman smiled lightly at Malfoy's indulgent tone and was pleasant to the group until the Malfoys moved on, obviously touching base with various important parties as they toured the room.

"Bloody Malfoy, still a bloody git, even when he's being a nice git," Ron muttered and was slapped for his trouble. "Look out, they're going to start the auction now."

Nash won his sculpture and handed it over to Brian with a kiss which made the group cheer and stamp their approval. Brian did not win the golden plate he had bid on but did win a rather oddly carved box which he had placed a bid on almost by accident.

"You could always enlarge it and use it as a window box," Ginny remarked, running a finger over the tiny, intricate carving on the lid.

"No, I think it's cute, maybe a jewellery box or a keepsakes box," Brian replied, shrinking it and placing it into his robe pocket as his own piece was won by none other than Viktor Krum, looking positively gleeful picking up the hefty stone sculpture as if it weighed nothing. "Humm, interesting," Brian mused as the professional trainer came over, his illustrious career as a seeker now over due to age and injuries.

"You do good work," he told Brian in heavily accented English as he placed the stone on the table. "The card says you do something to it. Nothing bad, I hope. This is beautiful work, makes me remember… Tri-wizard tournament, mer-folk under the Black Lake, not your Little Muggle Mermaid there!" He laughed heartily as he clapped Brian's shoulder and made him wince as he pulled out his stone tools and enlarged them ready to finish the runes of protection and personalisation.

Standing up, Brian made Krum spit on the rune as he carved it, the saliva disappearing into the granite as if by magic. Hermione looked on curiously as the sculptor murmured under his breath, his neat, precise strokes of the hammer on chisel careful and delicate as possible. Barely a flake or two of granite fell away but the spell seemed to infuse the piece, making the alabaster glow white and the granite flicker through the spectrum until both materials finally settled back to a softly gleaming glow.

"Powerful," Krum murmured appreciatively as he trailed a finger over the wildly tangled stone locks. "Why not use blood?"

Brian gave him a sly smile. "Because blood is illegal," he offered and caught the Bulgarian's equally sly smile. Obviously the ex-seeker turned professional coach knew more about the Dark Arts than he was letting on, and knew Brian did, too.

By half past ten, Brian could hardly keep his eyes open and Nash finally took pity on him, apparating them off to Brian's flat in Oxford where the blond collapsed on his bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow. Chuckling indulgently, Nash stripped off his shoes and spelled his robes into the wardrobe before covering him with the duvet. "Sleep tight, little one, I love you," he murmured as he doused the candles and apparated home.

**End Note:** I know I don't normally add these but I would like to thank all you guys who have reviewed my story. I really do appreciate your comments, even the one word ones. I would like to know what people think of the story, what they think may happen, or speculate on what they would like to see happen. Suggestions from others have sparked ideas for further stories and inspiration can come from the most unlikely sources. May I also encourage all of you very kind people who have added me to your favourites to drop me a line too as I would like to know WHY me? And to those of you who have commented where English is not your first language; Fantastic! I have never conquered another language and can only stand gaping in awe of those people clever enough to do so. A friend of mine once apologised for her poor English. I told her, "Have you heard my Mandarin lately?" I know exactly one word of Mandarin and it causes everyone in the Ying family to completely crack up when I say it. (I think my accent sucks but they are too kind to tell me, ah well.)

Enough of that! Thanks again and I'll see you next Sunday.

Regards

Les


	8. Random Chance Part II

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Buckets of Thank Yous:** As always, I cannot say this was a lone effort. Without the input and comments from the BeST this would not be a rounded or finished tale. Having a good beta is vitally important to completing any work and I have the BeST three in the business. Zarathustra46 has her own published work on FFNet and I suggest you go have a really good read. Nathaniel_hp runs Challenges and writes Ron/Remus perfectly, Google him, it's well worth it. The Wicked Bunjhiny doesn't write but that purple pen of hers is a killer and her grasp of punctuation leaves me stunned. (She is so damned good at it!) Thanks again, Guys.

**Author's Note:** Just a quick thanks to all those people who have written a review. THANK YOU!!!! I love reviews, they keep this monkey happy and productive. I try to answer them all personally as I think that, if a person can be bothered to review then it is only polite that the author respond. So, excuse spelling in advance. As mentioned in an earlier Note, all spelling and punctuation is raw, not edited and I am horrible at it. LOL. For those of you who have sent me guesses about what has happened to Brian... I'm not going to tell you!!!!! Enjoy this instalment, won't you?

Regards

Les

oo0oo

Brian had been feeling out of sorts so the invitation to tea at Malfoy Manor was a welcome distraction. The last time he had seen the manor, there had been dead Aurors and Death Eaters scattered all over the lawns, holes blasted in the southern wall and most of the windows had been exploded out. Today, as the Portkey brought him through the wards, he had time to study the serene symmetry of the buildings and the smooth green expanses of emerald grass. The wards were old ones and gave reluctantly to the signature of the Portkey, just enough to funnel Brian's descent into a receiving room.

The room was octagonal with a high, domed ceiling and woven tapestries on the walls. Benches padded in velvet were arranged below the tapestries and only one door let out. Placing the now defunct Portkey on the table, Brian turned to study the tapestries and settle his stomach when the door opened and Lady Malfoy strode in, hand held out in welcome.

"So good of you to come," she greeted and smiled graciously as Brian bent and kissed her hand. "I trust you had no difficulty using the Portkey? My husband maintains fairly tight security still."

"The manor's wards are very old and well tuned," Brian agreed as he took her arm and allowed her to guide him into the main body of the manor toward the Conservatory.

"I thought we would have a look at the place I would like you to consider for your sculpture and then we can have a spot of tea and discuss it."

The tour of the conservatory and the walled garden where Lady Malfoy wanted the piece to feature did not take long. Soon they were ensconced in the conservatory overlooking the site with tea and sandwiches before them for their refreshment.

"Of course I saw the piece you did for the auction. My mother-in-law is one of the leading organisers and I help catalogue the auction items as they come in. Then Catarina and Lizella began to sing your praises. You made quite an impression on little Lizella, I do assure you," she laughed merrily. "And she never takes off the necklace you gave her, Catarina tells me."

"She is a delightful child," Brian replied, with an equally fond smile.

"Humm, shame about having to have Elphius Jorensecle for a father but still, Catarina is civilising him. I heard how they treated you, most distasteful; very bad manners. I remember my grandmother telling me how when the present lord's grandfather bought or bribed Aurelia Potter for his wife, it was like giving caviar to swine. Poor girl, she never did well and then there were the rumours that her own son killed her in some mad ritual he devised… Of course, that was before they changed their name. Anglicised it, or so they say but really, made a hash of it, if you ask me," she rattled on happily.

"What did they change their name from and to?" Brian asked fascinated yet slightly appalled.

"Oh, they were originally Joren Se La Celestias, some sort of French or Spanish name which they thought they would Anglicise - but not very fortuitously - about the time of Grindelwald's rise. Just in case, you know?"

"How do you know all this?" Brian asked in amazement, as the woman gaily rattled on.

"It's social history, not your Goblin and Centaur wars drama obviously, but the little accounts and personal histories played out in many of the great families. That sort of thing has always fascinated me, along with genealogies and family gossip." She laughed more openly this time, no longer a polite gesture but genuine amusement. "When bored and your main hobby is gossip, talking to the family ghosts becomes a habit. Putting it all together is much more fun than a mystery novel by that Muggle fellow…"

"Sherlock Holmes? You should write them down and make a novel out of it yourself; would keep the world spinning, some of them in their graves," Brian teased, making the woman go off into fits of giggles. He watched her merriments and smiled appreciatively, as the formal was engulfed by the abandon and beauty of her laughter glowing in her face. No wonder Malfoy had chosen what seemed to be at first glance a rather ordinarily pretty woman; her character lent her an ethereal glow when she laughed. It gave him an idea for her sculpture while her gossip history sparked a very different idea, not so pleasant but equally captivating.

oo0oo

Closing the last of the books in his personal library, Brian glared at the wall and huffed. The information he wanted was not there! Huffing again, he stormed out of the library and crawled out of his trunk, glaring as his robes caught on the latch. Bloody lack of stamina, it was making him get fat, even a short walk around the block took more energy than he had to spare these days. Perhaps he should go see a doctor and get a tonic or something, or maybe Nash had something in that rat's nest of potions he called a shop.

Thoroughly out of sorts, he stormed into his kitchen, tapped the pot for tea and promptly dropped the kettle, scalding his ankle and foot in the process. Biting back tears and howling in pain, he cursed up a storm and drenched himself in cold water. Without conscious thought he spun on the spot and landed in a heap in the Apothecary where Nash's head came up and his wand dropped into his hand in automatic defence at the noise. Both he and Mandy raced around the bench to the small huddle of blue robes and denim on the floor. Bending to hook his hands under armpits, Nash pulled him up and sat him on the counter in one smooth movement.

"Foot, burned it," Brian gasped as Mandy carefully eased the wet trainer off and winced at the blisters already rising.

"Oh good Merlin! Only you could… Pass me the orange jar, Mandy, and the small blue vial, if you please. Thank you. Here, drink this one," he uncorked the vial and held it out imperiously. As soon as it was downed, he began smoothing the contents of the jar, a thick chartreuse paste, onto the blisters and reddened flesh, easing the jeans up until all the areas of redness had been coated. "Anywhere else?"

"Don't think so," Brian murmured sleepily, his head nodding even as they watched.

"Is he always that sleepy?" Mandy asked in astonishment as the smaller man literally slumped forward against Nash's shoulder and began to snore slightly.

"Only since the accident up the hill at the Manor. Something odd happened there and put him in hospital for a week. I don't think he is fully recovered from it even yet."

"But that was nearly three months ago, surely…"

"Obviously not. And he _will not_ take it easy, just keeps going at the same old pace until he collapses like this."

"Take him home, I'll mind the shop," Mandy told him fondly since he looked so worried.

Nodding his thanks and immediately assigning her a bonus for her constant kindness and understanding, he apparated Brian and himself home.

Brian slept for an hour and a half before he woke up and looked sheepish as Nash put a tray of tea on the bedside table and helped him to sit up. There was a twisted blue bottle on the tea tray that Brian eyed slightly apprehensively until Nash smirked and poured him a small spoonful. "Three times a day, if you please," he commented.

"What is it?"

"Just a vitamin tonic against this magical exhaustion you seem to be unable to shake. You are going to have to take it easy for a week or two as you are not recovering as fast as you should."

"Yes, I know. I've decided just to do a bit of research for a few weeks, nothing heavy, just some family history on a few families and to plan out the sculpture Lady Malfoy wants me to do for her. No carving, yet, just the planning," he promised, accepting tea and sipping gratefully. "Sorry to drag you away from work again, you must get sick of me."

Nash studied the down-turned head and smiled gently, as he leaned forward and kissed the top of the rather messy blond hair. "Nah, keeps me on my toes, Love," he said tenderly, giving his partner a careful hug. "Drink your tea."

oo0oo

Gringotts had not changed a bit as he entered and offered his vault key to the goblin on duty. It studied the small golden curlicue, then imperiously snapped its fingers. Riding the rollercoaster almost made him vomit for some reason, the goblin waiting patiently until he managed to climb out of the cart under his own steam. The Potter vaults were rarely disturbed; the place full of family artefacts, books, jewellery and magical objects. Surveying the wild tangle, Brian sighed and dropped his glamour as he began to shuffle his way between piles of stuff toward the books stacked all over the side wall space. In front of them all, on its own carefully crafted stand, was the Books Of Family: the Potter History Books. Settling himself down in front of the lectern, he selected the book holding the Family Tree. Studying the shiny black leather, he tapped the cover of the large book with his wand.

"Show me Aurelia Potter," he said and sat back as the covers slapped open, the pages flicking to show a sketch of a regal looking woman. The words were written in some archaic form of English but the dates were wrong. "Next one," he muttered and more pages turned. This time the language was almost readable but again the dates were wrong. The third shot was better but this woman had married a Garstandic and left the country to live in Scandinavia of all places. However, her niece had married a Lord Elphius Dolgren Joren Se La Celestias. "Bingo," Brian breathed. "Point me this Aurelia Potter," he intoned and another large book positioned itself on the lectern, its pages ruffling in a non-existent breeze to the correct page. Settling down to read, he began to learn about the woman who had married straight out of Beauxbatons and gone to live at her husband's manor taking a dowry of…

Brian shook his head and sighed as he closed his book. There was no other mention of her or her offspring; the book didn't mention any of the cadet lines once they were out of the family purview. Oh well, he wondered how he was going to get a look at the Jorensecle Family Tree.

He was still pondering as he left Gringotts and suddenly realised he really, really needed a bowl of Florentine Fortescue's Butterscotch Crackle ice cream. The craving hit him like a bludger to the head and he dashed across the road, pulling out a chair at one of the outdoor tables and seating himself in mouth-watering anticipation. Each mouthful was as blissful as he had anticipated, cold, creamy and laced with crackling pieces of butterscotch whose flavour exploded in his mouth. He closed his eyes to experience it even more deeply when someone giggled and he blinked out of his sugar haze to see Lizella Jorensecle and her mother standing watching him. Catarina Jorensecle stood behind her daughter, a titter hidden behind her hand as she nodded hello.

Brian rose hastily and bowed. "Sorry, I was…"

"Really enjoying your treat, I think," Catarina said merrily. "I'm pleased to see you looking so… awake," she murmured as the Ward Smith offered her and her daughter a seat, ordering tea for the mother and ice cream for the daughter.

"Humm, I am recovering somewhat," he replied, once the child was ice-cream occupied. "The freed magic hit me hard, harder than it should have but I think I know why now. You see, I believe the magic was from a Potter who married into your line, Aurelia Potter. I have Potters in my family tree so the magic gravitated toward me as the nearest Potter."

"Oh, oh dear. Aurelia, you say? That was Elph's great-grandmother. She outlived her husband by quite a few years; as her son and she did not agree on many things, the battles in the house were monumental. She -- she died very suddenly after a family gathering and was buried in the family plot alongside her husband. There was rather an 'Of-This-We-Do-No-Speak' agreement over her demise so I can't really tell you more than that," she said thoughtfully. "When did you say the blood wards were erected? I wonder if she died because of that working?"

"It would fit," Brian murmured, equally in thought. "If they took so much of her magic that her body could no longer sustain life, then the magic would be a force to be reckoned with even after all this time."

"No wonder it made you so ill. I am sorry," Catarina apologised unnecessarily.

"It's not your fault," Brian hastened to assure her and set the conversation onto more pleasant paths.

oo0oo

The owl was a stranger, banging self-importantly on the window on a Saturday morning. Still half asleep, Nash let it in and it flew over to strut arrogantly up to Brian as he dosed on one elbow over tea and toast. Shaking a leg, the owl insisted he immediately relieve it of its burden. As soon as the scroll was released, it launched, knocking over the milk jug, and making Nash duck hastily as it skimmed out the window and vanished into the morning sky.

"Well! That was one rude owl," the tall wizard remarked as he made his way back to the table and slumped down in his chair again.

"Ministry owl, sent me a scroll. Wonder what they want now?" Brian murmured between yawning and cleaning up the milk.

Nash frowned and banished the puddle, wondering why his lover always seemed to go for the Muggle manual solutions when he was half asleep. "Are you going to read it?" he asked, checking the creamy parchment for any dangerous spells.

"Oh, I suppose so. Let me wake up first," Brian grumbled, again settling into the semi-torpor of a lazy Saturday morning when there was nothing on the agenda besides a stroll into Kilbridie to pick up some groceries and a few potions ingredients that Nash wanted.

Nash rolled his eyes and poked the scroll with the end of his wand, jumping guiltily as the beribboned and seal appended document unfurled and one corner splatted into Brian's toast, spreading…

"What do you have on that toast?" Nash asked in mild distaste.

"Honey and vegemite, and parchment evidently," Brian snipped, spinning the paper around so he could read it. "Oh, nothing exciting; just an invitation to a meeting at the Ministry on Monday at ten. Boring! They usually want me to check some Ministry Officer's home to make sure his precious VW I wards are still limping along as inefficiently as ever."

"Ouch. You _are_ in a fine mood today, aren't you?" Nash teased gently, pouring more tea and passing it over. "If you would rather, I can always get the groceries delivered."

Brian heaved a sigh. "No, I'm just out of sorts. I think I'll make Beef Wellington for dinner tonight, I really feel like cooking and I want some red meat."

Nash grinned and nodded. Brian was a brilliant cook when he was in the mood.

oo0oo

Brian arrived at the Ministry and took the telephone box to the main foyer. After some discussion with Nash, he had decided to wear Muggle clothes, if only to annoy the establishment. Camouflage combat pants and a black tee-shirt with 'Iron Maiden' emblazoned on the front were topped by a calf-length oilskin coat and finished with black combat boots. With his hair loose around his face, he strode through the crowd of witches and wizards, ignoring them for the most part until he found the room his meeting was supposed to be held in.

The Under Minister for Muggle Interactions and the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts were already waiting for him along with two men and two women wearing what amounted to the uniform of Ward Smiths, grey robes and white rope belts with various coloured tips. Brian rolled his eyes and sighed as he surveyed the earnest and slightly horrified group until his eyes fell on the Misuse Head.

"Arthur!" he nodded respectfully as he flopped carefully into the only empty seat at the table.

"Brian, nice to see you again. How are you? Er, this is Under Minister Gladius McDougal, of the Muggle Interactions Department." The man nodded and dismissively waved Arthur away which made Brian's eyes narrow as he surveyed the bulky man distastefully.

"Master Ward Smith er, Wardsmith, Muggles have managed to damage the wards around a barrow site in the Fens where we have been monitoring a build-up of negative magical energy for the last three weeks. A team from our Warding Department assessed the situation and decided to offer you the honour of supervising the team charged with the restructure of the wards."

"The honour, humm? What you actually mean is you don't have anyone with both the knowledge and raw power to make sure it all stays in place if anything more forceful than what you are contending with now starts to stir," Brian sniped disgustedly and rose as if to leave.

"It's a series of Barrows strung out along a ley line," Arthur said apologetically, making Brian sit back down and frown.

"A series? Oh, nice, just what the doctor ordered. Bloody hell, why weren't the Muggle repellent charms in order?" he demanded of the warding team representatives who squirmed.

"They're archaeologists, Sir," the older of the two women offered apologetically.

"It just keeps getting better, doesn't it? I assume they acquired something they shouldn't, by your presence, Arthur."

"Yes, unfortunately, they managed to get hold of a map that some idiot charmed to show all the hidden places in England, pinpointing magical artefacts and hidden treasure."

"Just England, not the whole British Isles?"

There was a collective shudder around the table. "Just England, but that includes Diagon Alley, Wolvestown and Kilbridie; but nothing of Scotland, Wales or Ireland, north or south."

"Well, thank goodness for small mercies! So, they have broken the wards on one barrow in a series of barrows laid along a ley line but nothing has yet escaped… you don't think?" Brian summed up heavily.

"Oh, there have been a couple of things that got out but we have been able to keep them from leaving the immediate area as the outer wards have not been completely breached. Unfortunately, the Muggles are still digging and have churned up the inner wards to the point of semi-rousing the Dark Magic contained in the Barrows. So far it is only a couple of wraiths but Egglington says he detected a Wight beginning to stir."

Brian swore softly. "Okay, what sort of warding are we talking about and what do we need?"

"Now hold on, Mr Wardsmith, the only reason we invited you here today is because someone further up the ladder got cold feet and insisted you poke, er, oversee our preparations. As far as I and my Minister are concerned, you are merely here as an observer."

"Really, then you will understand when I say pull your head in, you over inflated yes-man! This is Warding business! Right, you guys, show me what you've got!"

Arthur bit his lip to stop his laughter as his most troublesome rival in the Ministry sat back flabbergasted and the four Warding department members leaned forward with an almost audible sigh of relief. Patricia Culverton pulled out a shrunken wallet of maps and diagrams to show the Master Ward Smith who listened with both ears to her concerns and did not dismiss her speculations and conclusions as fantasy and scaremongering at all.

"So, to recap," Brian said after a long and involved discussion. "You have a string of nine barrows laid out on a ley line; each heavily warded with both inner and outer wards, then a set of wards encircling all the barrows as a sort of last ditch defence. The Muggles have been digging on the third from the southern end and have breached the shielding ring or wards. They have dismantled the outer ward and are approaching the inner wards around the actual burial chamber. Wraiths are already free and there is probably a Wight in the burial chamber. Have I got the whole picture?"

"Yes sir, except, they have taken one of the ward stones for the outer ward away for '_analysis'_, the southern one, and have actually broken the eastern stone in half by accident," Kluther Trotter said apologetically. "We think breaking the eastern stone was the first of the disasters which allowed the ward to falter, then fail."

"Bloody hell! It just gets better! Any idea of what was on the warding stones?"

"Oh, yes sir, that part's easy; we have pictures from Johnny, er, Warder Egglington, our field agent with the Archaeologist team," Patricia assured him, hurriedly dropping the photographs onto the table. "We have measurements and positional sightings for the missing stones, too."

Sighing deeply, Brian scrubbed his hair. "Right, we'll have to work quickly and accurately. One team on each of the warding stones, procure virgin basalt and get the carving done as quickly as you can. No magic, don't forget! As soon as they are ready, get them transported to the site and placed, under concealment charms, understood? This sort of ritual will need to be accomplished at the dead of the moon which gives us exactly sixty hours to consecrate ourselves, get the herbs assembled, and finish the job. Arthur, can you get a team ready to clean up the site and replace the Muggle repellent charms? Good man. I would suggest you, Under Minister, get a survey team together and get to checking all the wards and bindings and make sure they are still firmly in place or we are going to have a lot more accidents and releases if we aren't careful. And find out who our happy map maker is and gag him somehow. Got it? Next time it might be Hogwarts suffering an influx of bloody… Archaeologists!"

Ignoring the spluttered protests from the under Minister, Brian swept out leaving a smirking and reenergised team of warders behind him.

oo0oo

Johnny Egglington was a short, round man with boundless enthusiasm who all but skipped over to the new arrivals, shaking hands, exclaiming and commenting excitedly as they checked the site and began to unpack the tools they had brought along. Patricia Culverton took her place at the South ward as the oldest and most experienced of the Warders. Susan Pinzance, the least experienced, was posted to the West ward. Trotter and Monagrew had tossed a coin for their positions as they were both very experienced. Kluther Trotter ended up at the broken East and Moratius Monagrew took North, the Initiator's position.

Brian positioned himself between East and South, not the best position but the place closest to the most vulnerable point in the disabled circle. Each person brought out their brass braziers and carefully placed sticks of ash, yew and oak in neat pyramids in the bowls. Dry peatmoss was stuffed in as kindling and mineral oil-soaked bundles of dried sage were added at intervals to ensure the blaze. Cups of pure spring water from the Lake of the Lady stood to the left of the braziers and bowls of purified earth from Glastonbury stood to the right. By ten to midnight everything was ready, Johnny Egglington standing ready to act as gofer and do whatever the others wanted him to do during the service. Officially, he was called Senior Apprentice for the duration of the ceremony, even if he had finished his apprenticeship many years before.

As distant bells chimed midnight, the Warders raised their wands and began the chant, drawing on the four elements of Earth, a handful taken from the bowl and sprinkled around the edge of the brazier. Water, taken from the cup, was sprinkled over the brazier; then wands were used to invoke Fire, setting the sticks of woods alight and Wind, blown gently on the sparks to make them blaze. Invoking the four Elements, the Warders began the chant to revitalise the wards and reconsecrate the new stones in their new positions.

Everything was going very smoothly, the new stones in place and consecrated; the rebuilding of the outer ward about to begin as the clocks rang in five thirty, the sunrise immanent. Moratius Monagrew had begun the Chant to the Northern Warding when suddenly the earth rolled and exploded outward. Susan Pinzance screamed as something ill defined reached from the earth and raked at her through the smoke. She stumbled backwards, blood gushing from the gash in her stomach. A flailing hand overturned the brazier in her haste to escape the manifestation of the Wight. Johnny was running, his wand drawn to take her place as the wards bulged and flickered, the inner wards beginning to crack and buckle under the pressure of the determined Wight trying to free itself.

Brian did not think but flung his hands up, his everyday wand in his right hand, his old yew and phoenix wand materialised in his left hand. Striding forward to the edge of the disintegrating inner ward, he began feeding his own magic into it, calling on the Elements and gathering extra power from the ley line he had very deliberately straddled. He could feel the power of Earth and Water rising through his legs, the Wind beginning to wrap around him as Fire slammed down from the newly risen sun and vibrated between the two wands he held aloft for that very purpose.

What rose from the ground was amphomous, Dark, red and tinged blackness; blacker than the darkest night in winter. Icy cold breath tried to steal Brian's warm life but he was protected and defended by the four Elements he had drawn to him. Bending and turning, Brian wove the four Elements into a net of pure natural power and spread it wide over the inner grave mound, catching the Wight and holding it in place. A flick of his wands sent Earth to spike the Northern ward. Water flew out and doused the Southern edge. Fire slammed into the Eastern ward and Air spun free to anchor the western edge.

Divest of Elements but still holding the ley line, Brian spread the Elements, making an impenetrable circle around the edge of the net he had created, sealing it to the earth and under, pulling it downward until it completely englobed the Wight. A change in the rhythm and speed of the incantation drew the edges tight and sealed the globe, entombing the Wight once again, forcing it back into harmless sleep. Staggering and completely drained, Brian knew he was about to collapse and managed to grab some of the ley line power, wrapping the natural magic around him as he willed himself home!

oo0oo


	9. Random Chance III

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

Buckets of Thank Yous: As always, I cannot say this was a lone effort. Without the input and comments from the BeST this would not be a rounded or finished tale. Having a good beta is vitally important to completing any work and I have the BeST three in the business. Zarathustra46 has her own published work on FFNet and I suggest you go have a really good read. Nathaniel_hp runs Challenges and writes Ron/Remus perfectly, Google him, it's well worth it. The Wicked Bunjhiny doesn't write but that purple pen of hers is a killer and her grasp of punctuation leaves me stunned. (She is so damned good at it!) Thanks again, Guys.

**Author's Note:** By the end of this chapter you will either love it or feel like lynching me, guaranteed. Muahahahhahah!!!!! To everyone who has reviewed, my thanks, I really do love reviews and I have tried to answer everyone who does review. Some people are reviewing anonymously and I can't answer. To them, let me say thank you here, I do appreciate hearing from readers, quite makes my day.

Regards

Les

Madame Pomfrey bustled through the infirmary, tidying the beds and making sure everything was in readiness for the next school year before she joined her colleagues for breakfast in the Great Hall. She always arrived a few days early to make certain her domain was in tip-top condition. Despite the war being almost ten years elapsed, she was still ready to go onto a war footing at a moment's notice. Some lessons never left a body, no matter how much time passed or how many people called you a foolish old woman. This was her last year, she swore. Too many years as a school Medi-witch, too many casualties and dead faces, too many lives cut short. She had treated them all, the good, the bad and the slain, always as fair and as impartial as she could be, be they Order member, Death Eater or unfortunate citizen caught up in the mayhem that had ruled their lives for so long.

She was just about to shut the door and return to her office when a flash of light and a thunderous bang made her jump and reflexively pull her wand. Her jaw dropped open as an all too-familiar figure dropped onto the bed he favoured for so many years. Harry Potter in the flesh and quite unconscious! With no thought to the age of her bones, Poppy ran to cast diagnostics over the 'child' and summon the necessary potions to treat a case of magical burn-out and exhaustion. One spell returned a reading that made her stop and recast, but then she shrugged. The boy had always been a little different from everyone else, so why not? She did not question where he had come from, why he was here or how he had arrived for that matter; she simply healed what she could and helped what she could not heal immediately.

Potions flew to her hand at her thought, the Infirmary perfectly tuned to her magic after long practice. Some things could be spelled directly into the patient; others had to be coaxed down his throat. She was surprised when a second pair of hands took over the monitoring and supporting spells, leaving her free to work on set areas.

"Lets get him undressed and into clean pyjamas. He looks like he's been rolling in the dirt, for goodness sake!" Poppy said finally, her grey hair escaping from its prim bun to straggle over one shoulder.

"Is this really Harry Potter?" Lila Littlehorn asked in reverent tones as she began to spell away his robes.

Poppy straightened abruptly and hauled her apprentice around by one arm to glare up at the taller girl. "This is Hogwarts; we have seen them all here. Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, Severus Snape. Good or bad, they have all been treated here, have told me their secrets, their failures and triumphs and I have kept those secrets and will continue to do so, carrying them to my grave! This position is _privileged_ and people trust us _because_ we can keep their secrets; not the big things that affect the world as we know it but the little personal things that are either embarrassing or silly that would not reflect well on heroes or monsters, do you understand?"

"Ye-yes, Poppy," the young woman replied, astonished at the ferocity of the older woman. Briefly she wondered what secrets the Medi-witch held but then mentally shrugged. "What shall we do with him?" she asked instead.

"Let's get him into the private staff room, I think, just in case we get an early wanderer. What _have_ you been up to this time, Harry dear?" she asked rhetorically as he was hovered into the private room. "No, no, child, leave the candle burning and the door cracked open a bit; Harry really does not like the dark."

Smiling and shaking her head, Lila did as she was told.

oo0oo

Using the time the Master Ward Smith had bought, the shaken team quickly finished the ritual and grabbed Susan to apparate her to St Mungo's for treatment. Later that day, once the Ministry opened at nine o'clock, Patricia Culverton had to report to the Under Minister that the Master Ward Smith had been lost while subduing the Barrow Wight. The man blanched and shook his head before telling her there would be a full inquiry the following day and immediately dismissed her. Pleased to get out without losing her head, Patricia ducked hurriedly as half a dozen memo planes sped out the door and took off in different directions.

Arthur received the memo from the Under Minister and blinked in surprise, not a good thing to find out, he decided. The Under Minister went on to inquire if Arthur knew if the Ward Smith had any relatives and to tell them there would be a full inquiry. Sighing, Arthur wrote a quick note to his daughter-in-law Hermione and sent it off with the office owl.

The Minister received his memo and moaned softly. This was not going to be an easy thing to cover up he decided, as he penned a quick note and sent it off by owl to Lord and Lady Malfoy, the people who had recommended Wardsmith in the first place. If heads were going to roll over this, then he would make sure it was not his head. To that end he asked if they would like to attend the inquiry to find out who was at fault.

Hermione read the letter from Arthur and squashed down a sob as she sank into the nearest chair. Poor Brian, my God, how could he have disappeared under such an inauspicious accident? Had anyone informed Nash yet? Did he even know Brian had gone on a job? Taking out the Floo powder, she tossed a handful into the flames and called Kilbridie Apothecary Shop.

Mandy squeaked as a head appeared in the fire, then shook her head with a deep breath. "Nash? I'll just get him," she offered and hurried away.

Nash knelt on the hearthstone and nodded to Mrs Granger-Weasley surprise. He was even more surprised when she asked if she could come through, offering a hand as she stepped out of the flames. "How can I help you?" he asked, offering her a cup of tea which she politely declined.

"I have some bad news, I'm afraid. Did you know Brian was going to do a task for the Ministry last night?"

"He was going to supervise some sort of rewarding…" Nash murmured, pushing the tea things he had automatically began to gather aside, his total attention focussed on the woman before him.

"It seems there was an accident. I don't have all the details but…"

The man turned a sickly green colour and swayed on his feet until both Hermione and Mandy caught his arms and guided him down to a seat. "Look, they are holding an inquiry into the accident tomorrow and I think you should be there, if you are well enough, as his next of kin, you know," Hermione told him earnestly as he grew paler and paler, his skin turning clammy under her hands. Glancing at Mandy who looked as shocked as he did, Hermione made a decision. "Can you close the shop? I'm going to take him home with me. If anyone is looking for him, tell them he is at the Burrow, okay?"

oo0oo

Lila Littlehorn peeped in on their unusual patient, not expecting any change in his condition only twelve hours after his arrival but she found a pair of bright green eyes looking back at her. "Hi, how do you feel now?" she asked softly, pushing open the door.

"Horrible," he managed to croak after a couple of tries.

Lila helped him to sit up and take a drink before she sent a quick _Patronus_ to Madam Pomfrey. "Don't worry, you'll feel better in a jiffy."

Poppy hurried into the private room straightening her apron and smiling broadly as she saw one of her favourite patients was awake and aware. Pulling her wand, she cast a quick diagnostic and nodded happily when the boy's magic levels came back low but within human normal. "Well, you are recovering, no thanks to whatever foolishness you were involved in this time, Mr Potter."

Brian gaped, then snapped his jaw shut, glancing out the side of his eyes at the young woman who was carefully measuring out a dose of some bright blue potion he was sure was destined for his stomach. Poppy smiled with motherly condescension and half nodded to the girl. "This is Lila who is going to be taking over from me when I retire, in a few months. I am going to be living in Hogsmeade and running the Hogsmeade Infirmary as Director rather than a Medi-wizard."

"Oh, er, how did you know it was me, Madam Pomfrey? I usually have a glamour in place."

The nurse handed him the potions dose and cast yet another spell over him as he drank and grimaced as he handed the spoon back. "Sorry, dear, your glamour has failed, probably because you were drained of magic, almost empty. If you were anyone other than yourself, I would say you would be out of it for days rather than hours. Still, you were lucky. You managed to save enough magical energy to protect the little one…"

"Excuse me?" Harry asked blankly as he looked from one woman to the other. "Little what?"

The women exchanged looks and Madam Pomfrey sat down on the bed to take his hand in both of hers. "Harry, dear, you are pregnant."

"What?" he gasped, wide eyed.

"I know it's a shock, Dear, but…"

She was correct, it was a shock, too much of a shock on top of the hard few days he had put in. He fainted dead away.

Lila blinked but Madam Pomfrey merely sighed and tucked him in, casting a _Solemnus_ charm over him. "Another twelve hours won't hurt him," she commented to her younger colleague as they left the Infirmary, the wards set to warn them if he woke up or was distressed.

oo0oo

The office was crowded despite the early hour, people crammed into every corner available. Under Minister Gladius McDougal cringed as yet another pair of people pushed into the rapidly diminishing space, which still had not reached the critical limit to activate the built-in engorgement charms. Lord and Lady Malfoy looked around and glared at the crowd just as the far door opened and the Minister himself looked out, shocked at the size of the crowd. With a wave of his wand, he cast the authority code that activated the engorgement charms and suddenly the office took on its boardroom configuration. There was a concerted sigh of relief.

"Sorry about that folks. Now if you would all take your seats, we can get this inquiry under way. For the record, it is 9:15 am, twenty-seventh of August. Er, perhaps I should introduce myself, I am Telmac Moncrief, Minister for the Department of Muggle Interactions. Gladius here is my Under Minister and second-in-command. Landon Capartis, my secretary, will take the minutes. If you will each introduce yourself and state your interest in this case, we can get on with it."

"Arthur Weasley, I contacted Brian Wardsmith for the project."

"Lord Draco Malfoy and Lady Adriana Malfoy, we recommended Brian as the overseer of the project."

"Hermione and Ronald Weasley, close friends of Brian Wardsmith."

"Sarasvat Narsimha Rao, Brian's partner, his next-of-kin."

"Very well. Patricia Culverton was team leader and is going to explain what happened. Miss Culverton?"

Patricia stood up and clasped her hands together inside her sleeves. She told of the preparations they had made in the previous few days, everything they had done to prevent disaster, how they had checked every step of the arrangements so that there were no mistakes or slip-ups. "Everything was going to plan and on schedule yesterday until our workings woke the Wight. It reacted by attacking the weakest link, in this case Suzy, er Susan Pinzance, who will be out of St Mungo's in a couple of weeks time. Johnny began to run and take her place when the Wight began to rise. Brian's aura and magic seemed to get bigger as he straddled the ley line and began to chant a containing spell, using all four elements to contain and control the creature. He wove an Elemental winding sheet and anchored it to the land with the four Elements before purse-pinching it around and under the creature so it could not get out, from any direction. He was tapped into the ley line so he managed to complete the incantation before the backlash caught him and he just… vanished." She glanced at the other three members of the containment team but they had nothing further to add to her statement. "Anyway, we completed the ceremony, Johnny taking Suzy's part. Once the wards were back in place, we checked them carefully, then put up the outer layer of wards and repaired the Muggle repellent charms with a slow reassertion so that the archaeologists will gradually lose interest in the site and it will fade from their Muggle consciences in a few weeks. We also activated the 'removal of funds' contingency so that the funding for the archaeological project would dry up to ensure their lack of interest."

"Did you find any evidence of particulate matter at the site?" Lord Malfoy asked in the following silence.

"No, my lord, nothing."

"Was there any traces of Dark magic?"

"Apart from the Wight's traces, there was nothing at all," Johnny Egglington murmured despondently.

"Did anyone check the ley line for disturbances in either direction?" Hermione asked, glancing around to receive blank looks from all of them.

"I… don't understand," Under Minister McDougal said flatly.

"If Brian was exhausted but able to tap into the natural magic, he could have used that magic to get himself out of there. Before you ask, it is just a theory put forward by someone in the … well, someone I know who was exploring the origins of Apparation. He postulated that, in the beginning, wizards travelled along the ley lines using the natural magic before someone formulated the spell for Apparation. Young children who do accidental transfers actually tap into the ambient magic to accomplish just that."

"Brian is a powerful wizard, if he had no chance for any other recourse, he could probably pull off a stunt like that," Nash mused almost to himself. Noticing he was the cynosure of all eyes, he flushed delicately and shrugged. "Oh, because he worked with runes, he often read texts that were so old they were written on skins and even clay tablets. When he was researching he often picked up other bits and pieces of information that were extraneous to his main thrust of research. Sometimes he would tell me incidental things he had found out, such as the power of ley lines and how the ancients used them."

"So, you are saying he might have just hooked onto a passing ley line and, what, Flooed out?" McDougal scoffed loudly.

"It's quite possible." Nash replied blandly. "I will believe he is deceased when you show me the body… and not before."

"What!" McDougal shrieked in disbelief. "Are you insane? You _are _insane!"

oo0oo

The _Solemnus_ charm had held and Harry woke refreshed and calmed from his forced sleep, the startling news still ringing through his mind and sparking his incredulity. Impossible stuff, he kept thinking, and saying, once the Medi-witches came back to check on him.

"Madam Pomfrey… Poppy, it may have escaped your notice but I am male and…" Harry began then shut up when Madam Pomfrey's lips twitched in amusement. "Alright, what has my magic done now?"

Lila _Summoned_ pillows and propped up the slightly built young man while her superior chuckled indulgently. "I think your magic has granted a very old wish of yours for a family of your own. Do you want the birds and bees talk?"

Harry flushed bright red and ducked his head. "Not particularly," he muttered, then took a deep breath as he looked up again. "But I guess I had better know just how bad it is."

"Is it a bad thing?" Lila asked gently, seating herself in the arm chair by the bed.

"No, I guess not." He sighed, and snuggled back into the mound of pillows. "Okay, tell me how the Potter Saga has managed to screw me over again this time?"

Shaking her head, Poppy urged him to drink a nutrient potion and eat the light breakfast Lila summoned, while she began. "I take it you had the Muggle explanation of conception when you were younger?"

"Yeah, Ron and Dean filled me in, with help from Seamus, when I was thirteen. After I discounted the sword fights from Dean and the attacking Banshees from Seamus, I gathered from Ron that a Dad and a Mum were involved. If they sent all the kids to bed, locked their doors and banged on the walls a lot then another brother or sister would arrive a year later, according to his brothers…"

Lila managed not to splutter her tea in her amusement and Poppy burst out laughing. "Ah, the Weasleys, earthy and wholesome."

"How _did_ you find out?" Lila asked curiously, when she managed to contain her laughter.

"Hermione loaned me a book." Harry shrugged wryly at the two ladies giggles. "Anyway! Every Muggle and Magical story I ever found sort of relies on one male and one female being present in the equation."

"True, but magical beings also rely on feeling and magical ambience to create magical children. Love makes the strongest magical fields, hate the second strongest etc. Your parents were very deeply in love when you were conceived and therefore you had the _potential_ to be a powerful wizard. Your life after that increased your magical potential by sheer suppression and the need to use it constantly to protect yourself from those Muggles. Mind, it could have gone either way; you might have _decreased_ the potential rather than increased it with mistreatment. A few experiments in the Middle Ages proved that old chestnut was not a really reliable way to increase power. So, egg plus sperm plus magical input creates a magical child. However, there are exceptions to the rule…"

"Oh, naturally…" Harry muttered sarcastically and ducked when Poppy smacked his hand playfully.

"When two men or two women really, really love each other and if they are magically powerful enough or have stored enough magic in an outside source to help them along, then it is possible to create a new life between them. You are very powerful but I assume you did not deliberately collect and store your magic as a booster? No. Your partner is powerful, too? Yes. Well, perhaps…"

Harry interrupted her with a groan of realisation. "The bloody Jorensecle Job. It went wrong and the excess magic ended up in my core. I was unconscious for a week before I woke up and went home to Nash. We… er, anyway, the next day we had a hell of a row and broke up for nearly a month before we made up again."

"Possible. Tell me about this excess magic."

"Lady Adriana Malfoy told me Jorensecle's great grandmother was a Potter, and his grandfather and she did not get on. There was some sort of ritual and we think Aurelia Potter-Jorensecle died because of it. When I broke the wards and freed the trapped soul used to anchor the wards, the liberated magic returned to the donors, except the Potter contribution which had no home to go back to; nor would it go back to nature. I was dispelling it when my concentration was disturbed and it speared into my core."

Both Poppy and Lila nodded wisely. "That would do it. Potter magic to a Potter descendant. If it wouldn't leave your core, then your core would have encapsulated it and when you and your partner provided the tools, it decided to fashion a new vessel to contain it. Magic is a very determined force of nature and it _will_ have its way."

"Which leaves me carrying the bundle, so to speak." Harry sighed deeply.

"Do you want to be rid of the burden?" Lila asked curiously.

She was completely shocked when she found herself flying across the room and pinned to the wall like a fly on display. Poppy rolled her eyes and shook her head. "We'll take that as a no then, shall we?"

Harry sniffed and made puppy-dog eyes at the young woman as he very consciously released the shield that has sprung up by accident. She rolled her eyes and pulled her uniform straight before grinning and bending forward to kiss his cheek. "Congratulations, anyway," she murmured, making him sniffle.

"Yes, indeed, congratulations, Child, you deserve a family of your own, but what will your partner say? And does he know who you really are? As you get bigger it is going to take more and more of your magic to support the child which means less and less to hold your glamour or whatever it is you do to hide yourself away."

Potter's face fell and he studied his fingers that traced unconscious doodles on the coverlet.

"And your friends. Do they know who you are, where you are?" Poppy asked, still holding his right hand for comfort. She winced as his grip convulsed on her fingers. "You are going to need some support in this, my dear. Male pregnancies are rare, tricky and rather dangerous, especially in the later months. You are going to need a lot of looking after, especially when you are virtually left magicless in the last month. Still, having been brought up as a Muggle, you will have a better chance than most of the magical males who were literally paralysed by the lack of free magic to the point of catatonia. Well! That's enough for just now. You settle down and have a nap while your breakfast settles; then, when you wake up, we'll talk some more. Sleep tight, Dear, and congratulations indeed!"

oo0oo

**End Note: ** Poor Harry, sucked in! Muahahahah! **Pazed** was the first to guess an MPREG way back in P1 of this section, congrats! Way too bright to see through my shallow ploys that one! LOL. To everyone else who guessed, there you go, confirmation of your reading prowess and ability to work out puzzles, well done! I can never guess who is the murderer, right up to the last page so I really enjoy police procedurals rather than mysteries. Just thought I'd tell you that, no idea why. As I said in the beginning, comments always welcome, but remember, I do reply.


	10. Coming to Terms Part I

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Author's Note:** Okay, quick note to clear something up. Any spelling, grammar or anything else mistakes in these Notes, thanks and disclaimer are all mine and my purple penned friend has had no input what-so-ever! LOL

Regards

Les

**Part 4 – Coming to Terms**

It was midmorning when Harry next woke, stretching and groaning as muscles and joints popped. He was mid-reach when it suddenly hit him and he froze. He was pregnant! Bloody Hell! A panic attack threatened to swamp every logical thought in his head but he managed to slam a lid on his terror and push it away into a tiny corner of his mind and tamp it down hard. At least Occulmency was good for something, he thought wryly as he wrestled his breathing back under his conscious control. Muscle by muscle, sinew by sinew, he relaxed back onto the mattress and raised his head to look down the length of his body. Now that he allowed himself to see, he really did have a slight pot belly, not fat, just rounded and… full-looking.

"Hello, Little one? How the hell… Ugh, I mean heck, did we get to this predicament?" he asked softly, almost fearfully curving a hand around the bulge just under his navel.

A warmth seeped into his fingers making him smile. Maybe there really was a little person living inside his body without him knowing it. After all, he had had some pretty unusual cravings recently. Liver and cheese sandwiches with mustard and raspberries came to mind.

"You know, I have to speak to you about your taste in sandwich fillings, it's pretty gross, really, but I guess it was quite delicious at the time," he murmured. He looked up startled when someone chuckled, blushing at getting caught being silly.

"Babies do play havoc with the tastebuds," Lila assured him, placing the morning tea tray down beside his bed. "Madam Pomfrey thought you would be waking up about now. There's a nutrient potion to be taken and some mineral supplements which should help with the food cravings. Madam wants to know who you would like to inform of your whereabouts; after all, you have been here for more than thirty-six hours already."

"Oh, Merlin! Nash will be beside himself! If I write a note can someone owl it for me?" he asked sitting up suddenly, swinging his legs out of bed. Unfortunately, a wave of dizziness took him but Lila's strong arm stopped him crashing ignominiously onto his nose on the floor. "Whoa! Not a good plan, Wardsmith," he muttered as she helped him back into bed.

"Gently does it," the Medi-witch cautioned, holding him until he was balanced again. "Much as you probably don't want to hear it, you are doing all the work for two, which includes eating, making blood and oxygen, and resting for two. You have to take that into account before doing anything strenuous."

Harry sighed, rubbing his nose. "You're right, you're right. Okay, how about I start eating while you get me some paper and a quill?"

"Sounds like a plan. Madam wants to know if you will be joining the staff for lunch in the Great Hall today, by the way. The Headmistress will be delighted to see you, I'm sure."

Thinking of Minerva McGonagall and her reactions triggered an internal struggle that lasted for a few seconds then Harry nodded and smiled, deciding to leave 'Brian' out of the picture for the moment. "Sure."

oo0oo

Minerva McGonagall pointedly ignored the piles of paper on her desk as she gazed out the window. Another term was starting tomorrow, another year of student problems, teacher headaches and teenage angst flooding the hallowed old halls. Usually the challenge of the year ahead infused and invigorated her, but this year she was tired, bone weary and ready to give it all away. Sometimes a witch had to know her limitations and she felt she had reached hers. It was time to retire. Mortimer Snorton was well trained, having acted as her Deputy Headmaster since he took over Ravenclaw from Filius. He was a good man, fair and unbiased when dealing with the house problems that arose. He wasn't as powerful as some of the past Headmasters but he was well versed in all the warding and defence techniques. He dealt well and diplomatically with the Ministry and parents, and some of the ideas he had introduced were quite revolutionary, bringing Hogwarts neatly into the twenty-first century, never mind the twentieth century. He would serve the old castle very well when she retired.

'_So be it,'_ she decided, glancing at the clock and gathering up her hat. Lunch time already and no work done. Oh, fiddle, so what! It didn't happen often and she should just enjoy her impromptu holiday, perhaps something good was coming her way.

Hogwarts was always kind to her Head, opening a shortcut to the Great Hall most obligingly. The staff table was neatly set, half the staff already there and the others arriving in time. Madam Pimpernel, who taught potions, was playing some sort of betting game with Rolanda Hooch while Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank looked on and batty Trelawney made inappropriate comments on the flips of the dice. Agytha Sinistra and Dayton Igneous, Astronomy and Runes respectively, were involved in some intricate discussion that involved cutlery. Peter Steinway and Gordon De Sota, Charms and Transfigurations, were madly trying to scramble to the table before the Headmistress arrived and she slowed her pace to speak to Madam Sprout who was still behind her in the hall. Here they were, the cream of the wizarding teaching world and all hers to command and adjudicate over the next twelve months. Most of the old guard had already retired and even Madam Pomfrey was going next year, the end of an era indeed.

"Where's Poppy, and her trainee?" Minerva asked, taking her place and noticing there were three empty spots. "And who is visiting us today?"

"I heard they had an emergency a couple of days ago who is still under Medi-witches orders. You know Poppy doesn't give up her prey easily," De Sota teased gently, having spent quite some time in Poppy's realm the year before.

There were a few chuckles which stopped as the side door opened and Poppy came through with a tall, dark-haired man on her arm, Lila, with a huge grin on her face, bringing up the rear of the small procession.

As they approached the table, Minerva gave a gasp of recognition and flew out of her chair to envelope the stranger in a huge hug, all aches and pains forgotten in that moment of joy. One of her little Lions had returned to her!

Madam Hooch half rising, too. "Harry? My God! Harry Potter, where the hell have you been hiding?" the flying instructor demanded cheerfully.

Harry grinned, patting Professor McGonagall's back gently as she clung to him. "I've been in America for quite a while. I was just passing through when, true to form, I ended up in Madam Pomfrey's care, as per usual," he told them over his Head of House's shoulder before leading her to her chair and ceremoniously seating her. Taking his seat between Poppy and Lila, he acknowledged introductions shyly and laughed at various reminiscences his old teachers made, ignoring the slightly awed looks from a couple of the younger ones. As the meal progressed through soup and roast chicken and vegetables, the younger teachers thawed out and were equally keen to hear the answers his old teachers elicited from the 'Boy-Who-Lived', hanging on his words and allowing the elders to conduct the very genteel interrogation.

"So what are your plans now, Harry? Are you coming back to live in England or Scotland?"

"No, I'm afraid not, I like to travel and I keep a low profile these days. Its best, don't you know?"

"Have you seen any of your old friends recently?" Minerva asked, once the dessert was served.

"Oh, I've seen them off and on over the years but they have their own lives now. Getting tangled up in the Potter saga is not really much fun when trying to raise a family, believe me." He couldn't help the touch of bitterness in his tone and ducked his head to self-consciously address his treacle tart.

"Never mind, dear, it's so good to see you, no matter how briefly," the Headmistress covered his uneasiness with caring concern. "Why don't you come up to my office before you go and have tea with me?"

"He won't be going anywhere except back to bed until the scans come back clean," Poppy said firmly, as the used plates disappeared and the staff began to leave. "Come along, Mr Potter, back to bed for you. Lila will send your owl, never fear."

"Thanks, Lila," he murmured, as he allowed Poppy to take his arm and lead him away.

oo0oo

Nash woke slowly, the sun telling him it was after midday. He felt terrible, his eyes gritty and swollen as he crawled out of bed and staggered into the shower. For a few moments he couldn't think why he felt so bad then it all came flooding back, the meeting, the news that Brian was missing; the sheer despair when they could find no trace of his passing at the Barrow site. Ron and Hermione Weasley had brought him home and dosed him with Dreamless Sleep before the sheer horror could overwhelm him totally. Brian was missing, presumed vaporised by his own magic. It was not possible!

The sound of the shower covered his sobs and the water ran cold before he had the heart to uncurl from the floor and crawl out to dry himself off. Shaving was beyond him as he staggered into his bedroom and dragged on the nearest robe, a plain black winter robe of stiff linen that he usually wore to mix potions in. Catching his weight on the doorpost he staggered down the hallway to the kitchen and stared grimly at the neat tidiness. He wanted to scream and smash things, and rail against the unfairness of it all. How dare fate play him such a foul hand; how dare the Powers-That-Be steal his lover away like that without a hint or a tip!

IT WAS NOT FAIR!

He did not realise he screamed it aloud until a fluttering of feathers made him spin to face the startled owl, wand in hand, a curse on his lips. His vision was so blurred with tears he nearly missed the small letter attached to the owl's leg until the creature flew at him, landed on his shoulder and nipped at his ear to get his attention. Dropping his head down so his chin rested on his chest, he managed to fumble the scroll free and offer the creature a bit of corn chip from the half empty packet on the bench. Even that small action was fraught with memories -- Brian sitting on the arm of the chair, stuffing down corn chips and forcing him to try them by teasing him with the stupid things.

Sniffing and drying his eyes on his sleeve, Nash managed to unroll the scroll and read the first few lines.

"_Nash love, _

_I am not dead…_

Electrified, Nash scrubbed his face and blinked hard to get rid of the excess tears before reading the missive.

"_Nash Love, _

_I am not dead so stop panicking. The Wight almost escaped before I managed to force it back to sleep, but it drained me almost dry. I hooked into the ley line and used the natural magic to transport myself to a safe place. I am at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the infirmary being treated for exhaustion. Unfortunately, they did not know who to contact until I woke up. I'll see you as soon as I am able to leave here._

_Love Brian."_

Nash did not think, he simply ran, grabbing his broom as he left the house and apparated mid-step. He landed in the Forbidden Forest and jumped on his broom pushing it to its top speed without thought for his safety as he swooped over the grounds and screeched to a stop on the front steps of the school. The doors flew open as he hit them with a wandless _Alohamora_ and stormed up the stairs and down the hallways, his long legs eating up the distance until he thrust the doors to the infirmary wide open.

Lila Littlehorn jumped in surprise and whipped around on her toes, wand drawn, as the slam echoed over the ward.

Madam Pomfrey yelled from her office, "Severus Snape, will you cease that…"

There was a patter of feet and the old Medi-witch burst out of her office in time to see an all too familiar swirl of black robes heading in the direction of her private staff room. "Severus?"

The young man who whirled to confront her could easily been mistaken for a young Severus Snape, long black rat-tail hair and all, but he was a healthy golden tan and nowhere near as tall as Severus Snape, besides being twenty years younger. His wand was wrong, pale and short rather than black and long and he held himself differently too. "Who the hell are you?"

Lila blinked at her superior's shocked tones, then bit her lip as the young man snapped back. "Sarasvat Narsimha Rao. Who the hell are you?"

Madam Pomfrey bridled, then blinked as a low voice called her name. The tone electrified the stranger who whirled on his toes, robes flying as he thrust the door open and disappeared into the room.

Brian looked up and smiled tremulously, thankful he had managed to recast his glamour, as he was smothered in a swirl of black, strong arms wrapping around him and crushing him into a heaving chest. Words tumbled over him in the soft, foreign language Nash called his native tongue. His control broke and he cried, his own arms clinging as if he was a drowning man thrown a lifeline. Someone tried to pull them apart then, when that failed abysmally, the experienced hands eased them both down onto the mattress and a light blanket was thrown over them both. Emotionally exhausted, neither young man registered the widening of the bed or the dimming of the torches as they collapsed into a deep, healing sleep.

oo0oo

Hermione arrived at the shop in Kilbridie at nine o'clock to find the Muggle girl Mandy standing outside with a pair of old witches who were looking somewhat impatient. "I don't understand how he could be late. I don't think he has ever been late in his life," Mandy assured the customers, as the strange woman stepped up.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger-Weasley and I wonder if you have seen Nash? He had some very bad news these last few days so I thought I would check on him and tell him we were going to set up a proper search for Brian later this morning."

"Bad news?" the elder of the pair of witches asked, hitching her basket up higher.

"His partner fell into a ley line day before yesterday and we aren't quite sure where he ended up," Hermione said cautiously, making both witches gasp and cover their mouths. Mandy just looked puzzled.

"Old Magic; you go fooling around with that stuff and you just cannot predict what will happen. Come along, Arachnia, maybe tomorrow." The two witches waddled off gossiping madly.

"_What_ happened to Brian?" Mandy asked, thrusting her hands into her pockets. "Er, if you can take the spells off, I can unlock the door," she said holding out a key.

"Oh, very well, but how will you deal with the potions?"

"Oh, I can dole out the pre-bottled ones and measure out the more common ingredients but the really magical stuff will have to wait until either Nash gets back or I can send a message to Mr Phynii who used to run the shop so he can come over for a few hours. He's a bit old and smelly but he can handle magic still."

"Do you have an owl?"

"No, the post office usually keeps a couple on standby as we are a mixed village and it's a rather open secret. The Ministry for Magic has granted us a dispensation over the Statutes of Secrecy so we're all good here."

"Amazing! Anyway, I'll check the house and if he's there, I'll make sure he's alright, if not… well, I'll deal with that later. Lock up when you are finished, won't you?"

oo0oo

Brian woke slowly and murmured appreciatively into the warm shoulder he was using as a pillow. Breath stirred the hair at his temple and strong arms anchored him against a comforting body. Nash was a possessive sleeper and didn't like to let go, even if his partner was desperate for the loo. Half asleep, Brian performed a small piece of magic he had learned on one of his multiple trips to hospital and emptied his bladder magically without ever having to get out of bed. That trick had disconcerted nurses in Muggle hospitals on more than one occasion. Hospitals!

He blinked awake and spotted the soft pink, very familiar walls and groaned very quietly. Just in case, he murmured his glamour charm and felt the ever so slight tingle that told him it was firmly in place once again before he realised Nash was beginning to awaken, his breathing beginning to change note. Nash, like him, was not a happy riser.

"Evening… or perhaps it's morning," Brian murmured, noticing the quality of the light in the room.

"Humm, hi, yes, we've been out to it for nearly eighteen hours. That's all I've done here, is snore my head off, it seems. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah. Need coffee?" Brian teased again, still gently. In a battle of wits, his partner was unarmed at this time of morning.

"Yeah. I… Brian! You're alive! Have you any idea how worried I was about you?"

Brian giggled; he couldn't help it, then yelped as Nash slugged him in the arm. "Don't you laugh at me, I thought you were dead! I thought you had been destroyed by a Barrow Wight and I would never see you again! It was only Hermione's reasoning that you had escaped on a ley line that kept me from splitting my wrists!"

"Oh, Love, no! You know I'm too tough to die like that," Brian assured him, hushing Nash as he sobbed brokenly. "Ah, Love, I wouldn't leave you so, really I wouldn't. Come on now, blow. There, dry your eyes and…" The rest was lost in a desperate kiss that stole both their breaths and assured each other they were still alive and loving. Crumpled robes and cotton pyjamas were hurriedly dispensed with as both needed to touch living skin to assure themselves the other was real and uninjured. Neither heard the door close as the two Medi-witches moved quietly back to the office with faint blushes on their faces.

Snuggling together, Brian sighed and dropped a kiss on Nash's shoulder before sighing again.

"Okay, what have you not told me?" Nash asked, too mellow to get really upset with his partner.

Another big sigh prefaced the blond's snuggling deeper. "Okay, I have been keeping a couple of secrets from you, from the whole world really, I suppose. It was just easier that way, no expectations, no awe or fear wherever I went, just me, just a man who performed on his own merits, you know?"

"What were you, an axe murderer?" Nash asked humorously. "Look, just tell me and we'll deal with it, okay? It couldn't be worse than the build-up you're giving it."

Brian bit his lip. "Okay… I don't look like this, I actually have black hair and green eyes and my name isn't really Brian Wardsmith, it's… it's… Harry James Potter."

"Okay… and?" Nash asked after a pause.

That was not the response Harry had both expected and dreaded after his 'big announcement' and it took him a moment to regroup. "You know, Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived?" Harry turned slightly to glance up, wondering if Nash was taking the mickey, but he genuinely looked puzzled. "I thought you were brought up in England for a while?"

"Well, yes, but I was kept at home while the stupid war was on and had little or no contact with the outside world. Oh, wait a minute, Harry Potter, defeater of He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named, that Harry Potter? But, but wasn't there a scar or something?"

Harry went limp then started to laugh, almost hysterically, enough to bring Madam Pomfrey in at a run, Lila on her heels. She was confronted by a wand pointed at her throat topped by a pair of hard brown eyes and her patient laughing so hard, tears ran down his face.

Harry almost managed to pull himself together enough to lower Nash's wand and half sit up to giggle at Madam Pomfrey. "He… he doesn't know who Harry Potter is!" he managed to gasp before going off into more peals of laughter.

"I hope you know why he is in hysterics?" Nash asked the Medi-witch, holding protectively onto the giggling blond.

"You have to understand that Harry has lived in the shadow of his fame all his life," Madam Pomfrey told Nash with a very deliberate graveness. "It tainted his growing years and almost killed him on a regular basis until he was seventeen and managed to defeat one of the worst Dark Lords we've had for years. Once he pulled off that victory, the Ministry feared his power and suddenly they were looking sideways at him and speculating on the chances of him growing too powerful for them to control. There were all sorts of rumours and then suddenly, he just disappeared, gone into thin air! There was some speculation that the Unspeakables had finally removed him from the equation but no hard evidence. Then day before yesterday, he managed to apparate into Hogwarts despite the anti-apparation wards and landed on what was once his favourite bed while he was growing up at school, and here he is!"

"I went to America," Harry managed to say, having got his giggles under control again. "I fled to Muggle Los Angeles and attended Muggle University for a year to study ancient languages before someone suggested plastic surgery for my scar. The Muggle surgeon removed the damaged bone in my skull - said something about traumatic osteonecrosis - and replaced it with a titanium mesh, then stitched the skin so the scar was all but invisible. I had Laser treatment for my eyes, too, which improved greatly once the curse scar was removed, so now I don't need glasses, either."

"So what do you look like without your glamour?" Nash asked indulgently.

Harry blushed and cancelled the charm, barely daring to raise his head to look at Nash who gasped. "I can put it back if you prefer."

"And hide those eyes, I think not," Nash murmured softly. "Actually, you don't look a great deal different, just brunet instead of blond, but those eyes…" He dropped a kiss on his partner's nose. "What do I call you, by the bye?"

"Brian, I think, I'm sort of used to it now," Brian decided, looking over at the two Medi-witches who both smiled back. Madam Pomfrey nodded encouragingly as she shooed her young assistant out. "There's more," he said heavily as they both sat up and Nash rearranged the pillows into a comfortable nest.

"What? More revelations? You're actually female and pregnant?" Nash teased then frowned as Brian stiffened in his arms. "What?"

"Well, you got one right, and as you very well know, I am not female."

Nash sat up straight, dumping Brian in the pillows as he spun around to stare down at the smaller man. "You are kidding, right? How can you be pregnant, if you really are male? That's im… well, perhaps not impos… the Jorensecle job, all that extra magic. We made love almost as soon as you got out of hospital and didn't bother with lube, just used cu... The magic didn't dissipate when you regained consciousness, it was encapsulated and needed somewhere to go so it… and you… No wonder you've been so moody and tired!"

Mouth open to make a comment, Brian deflated and started to snigger. "And they reckon I'm an Olympic class jumper to conclusions?" he murmured fondly. "Are you angry?"

"I am in shock! No, I'm not angry, just completely blown away. A child of my own seed? Impossible, unless I compromised my principles and I had such a disagreement with my Head of Family who wanted me to procreate, it almost caused a Family split. But this, my God, you have no idea of what you have done, do you? None at all! A child! You're sure? I mean, absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent sure?"

"I guess. Madame Pomfrey says…"

Nash sprang out of bed and flung open the door, yelling for the Medi-witches who came at a run, the younger one blushing at such an expanse of naked manhood but Nash didn't even register his nudity as he grabbed the older woman's arm and all but dragged her over to the bed where his partner lay in complete bemusement.

"Perform the pregnancy scan," he commanded imperiously and Madam Pomfrey's mouth tightened. "Please…" he added distractedly.

Brian nodded sharply and the old woman did as asked, casting the charm that projected a three dimensional image of the womb above the patient's stomach. Nash leaned in close and studied the tiny, almost fully formed child curled in the golden light. It moved ever so slightly and Brian's eyes went wide as his hand cupped the small bump and Nash inhaled sharply. Their eyes met through the golden haze and smiles spread over their faces, slow and wondering. Lila bit her lip and Poppy unashamedly wiped a tear as the spell began to fade.

"No doubt about it, that is a baby, not wind," Nash murmured reverently as he grasped his partner's hand. "What a rare and unexpected treasure we have."

Brian relaxed with a gasp of relief and clutched convulsively on Nash's long fingers. It was going to be alright!

Madam Pomfrey smiled at the two of them as she bustled out and returned almost immediately to hold out yet another potion for Brian to swallow, only to have it intercepted by Nash who sniffed it with a grimace of distaste.

"Inferior quality nutrient potion. I will brew your potions in future," he remarked before handing it over.

"Sometimes you sound just like an old colleague of mine," Poppy said with a grin as Brian sipped the greenish fluid with a moue of disgust. "Severus was a brewer of magnificent skill, the best we ever had, and I must admit to missing his delicate touch on most of the potions we get now. He could tweak any potion to its maximum efficiency without really seeming to try, such was his skill."

Nash cocked his head interestedly. "Sounds like someone I would like to meet."

Brian giggled. "I respected Severus as a fellow soldier and as a spy but I have to admit, he had all the personality of a rabid badger."

"Now, now, circumstance shaped Severus Snape to be what he was and its best not to speak ill of the dead, they have a habit of taking offence," Poppy murmured gently. "So, Harry… er, Brian, I am going to write a letter to a good friend and ex-apprentice of mine who should be able to look after you and the baby very well. I think… I think we may be able to pull off a little subterfuge, if you are willing to assist, Lila?"

The Medi-witch flashed a smile and nodded, her lips pursed. "And my friends thought taking a job at Hogwarts would be boring!"

Poppy merely barked a derisive laugh!


	11. Coming to Terms Part II

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Author's Note:** Okay, quick note to clear something up. Any spelling, grammar or anything else mistakes in these Notes, thanks and disclaimer are all mine and my purple penned friend has had no input what-so-ever! LOL

Regards

Les

oo0oo

There were Weasleys everywhere and a surprising number of grey-robed Warders, potions people, Aurors, and even more extraordinary, Malfoys, Parkinsons, Goyles and Crabbes all dressed in old robes or Muggle clothes with stout walking boots and staffs. Hermione stood on a rock and surveyed the midmorning gathering with some satisfaction before casting _Sonorus_ and demanding their attention. In moments she had them all divided up into groups and ready to head out.

"Right, we are going to do a search of the area on a fifty mile radius," she told them conjuring maps and having them fly to each person neatly. "Cover your area diligently and if any of you find him, tap the map and say so. Everyone's map will react by lighting up his position and we can all assemble on that spot. Any questions?"

"Where would you like Brian and I to be?" a voice asked as Nash came around the edge of the boulders, his arm supporting a rather pale and shaken Brian.

Everyone's map lit up in the centre as Hermione jumped off the rock to engulf both young men in a hug. "Where on earth have you been?" she demanded, deafening them until Brian cancelled the _Sonorus_ spell, while a number of people fell about laughing at Nash's wince.

"He's fine, just exhausted, physically and magically so I would like to get him…"

"I'm fine, Nash, really," Brian said firmly, hooking an arm around Hermione's waist and letting her guide them both to the boulder she was using for a podium. "Why is everyone here?"

"Looking for you, mate," Ron said heartily, offering his hand to Nash and reaching out to scrub Brian's carefully arranged blond locks. "Glad to see you aren't Wight poop."

"Charming to the last, Weasley," Adriana Malfoy murmured, also offering a smile of greeting.

Brian's mouth dropped open but soon he was hit by a wave of small children who clamoured for a seat on his lap or to hang on his arms and ask a multitude of questions while the rest of the search parties relaxed. The Weasley twins broke out a barrel of butter beer and a barrel of pumpkin juice while their wives conjured tables and picnics were summoned. The grimness of the gathering fell away into party mode as relief swept the multitude. Everyone was swept up in the jolly atmosphere but one or two still had real questions and vowed to pump the Master Ward Smith for a more coherent account of his time missing than the party line of '_he was found outside Hogwarts and tended by Madam Pomfrey until he regained consciousness'_.

The picnic party was a great success despite the grim reason for its original assembly and everyone went home satisfied. Hermione put a restraining hand on Nash's arm and told him to apparate back to their home with an 'or else' in her invitation that both young men thought too real to ignore. Apparating to the Weasley home, Brian allowed himself to be installed on the couch and accepted a cup of tea while Hermione settled the children for an afternoon nap.

"Alright, spill!" she demanded, flopping gracefully into the armchair opposite, Ron taking up position on the arm.

Brian consulted Nash with a glance and was given a smile of permission. "Okay, but you aren't going to like it. Hermione_, __restituo memoria__ Excalibur_."

Ron straightened as the spell hit his wife who gasped and straightened abruptly before her eyes widened and she let out a squeal. "Harry!" she shrieked as she shot out of the chair and wrapped him in a hug as of old. "Harry James Potter, you have a lot of explaining to do! Or not… if I am remembering correctly. Oh dear, was it really all my idea?"

"Yup, 'fraid so, Hermione," he told her unrepentantly, grinning from ear to ear as he dropped his glamour.

He was hit by another hug which lifted him off the chair and jiggled him all around before plopping him back. Ron realised they were too old for such antics and flushed bright scarlet but the grin never left his face. "Merlin's shiny balls, Harry, I missed you!" he yelled, whacking his best friend on the back and making Harry almost sprawl on the floor.

Nash's arm around his waist saved him and pulled him into a huddle to protect him from his friends' exuberance. "Take it easy people; he's not one hundred percent better yet."

"Oh, sorry, Bri… Har… what do we call you?" Ron asked, too happy to take offence at the other's tone.

"Brian would be best, I think. I like being Brian. I like living the life of Brian, it's a lot less angst ridden than the Potter Saga." He glanced up at Nash who smiled down indulgently.

"Yes, but what happened? Where did you go to? How?" Hermione insisted.

"Okay… do you remember when we speculated on ley lines and the old magic that used to be used before wands became the accepted way? Well, I used the ley lines to access the four Elements; something like I did when we were fighting Voldemort but this time I used two wands that actually like me and put the energy back into the earth when I was finished with it, rather than trying to use it to destroy. It still drained me but I was desperate to protect the Warding people as well as not letting the Wight out and keeping myself safe, so I grabbed onto some of the ley magic and wrapped it around myself. I'm not sure how it happened but I ended up in Madam Pomfrey's domain, on my favourite bed even. She said I just dropped from thin air but I speculate that the ley line runs straight through Hogwarts and I sort of slid down it to the best place I could go for the help I needed."

"So you think the pre-Apparition premise we were discussing is viable?" Hermione asked, perched on the edge of her chair in excitement.

"Yes, I do, but you really, really, _really_ have to want it before it will happen."

"Something like accidental app…"

"Hermione… Hermione! We have plenty of time to discuss that in the future," he assured her before swallowing hard and gathering his courage to continue. "There's a more pressing problem we need help with at the moment," Brian murmured, having found a low, quiet voice always caught her attention better.

"What is it?"

Exchanging looks with Nash, he smiled slightly. "I'm pregnant."

"What? … impossible!" Hermione said crisply.

"Er, not impossible," Ron corrected hesitantly. "Just bloody rare…"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! What do you mean not impossible. Harry is a boy, in case you have forgotten about that little fact…

"And a wizard," Ron muttered, hunching his shoulders to weather the storm.

"And what has that to do with it?" Eyes narrowed, Hermione's expression threatened to wring the information from him by main force if necessary.

"It usually only happens to pureblood ponces on very, very rare occasions."

"Or people who have just had a magical accident of unknown qualities," Nash added softly.

Ron nodded his agreement to that and settled back to stare up at the cornice as he recalled the lessons in pureblood history from his mother that he had only half heeded. "No one is entirely sure why it happens, perhaps the legacy of a curse or the machinations of magic looking to create someone to inherit from a family without a magical heir. Anyway, the really old pureblood families, those that refuse to marry too far from the tree, tend to have more incidents of male pregnancy than regular purebloods like our family. Look, you should be asking Mum about this stuff, she's the one who keeps the Books of Family, not me, just believe me, it happens and it happens to men, if they aren't really careful."

"Alright, but I will be talking to Molly, I promise you that!" Sometimes it really annoyed Hermione that her wizarding education had such… _such_ _holes_ in it, things that those born to the world just took for granted. She blinked and opened her mouth to ask more questions then sighed and packed her disbelief away for a few moments. "Have you had a scan?" she asked, deciding on a more practical tack as Harry or Brian, as he now preferred to be called, seemed to be trying to hide behind Nash.

"Madam Pomfrey scanned me and we saw her. She's tiny and she moved," Brian added reverently.

Both Ron's and Hermione's smiles softened in remembrance of their own encounter with scans of their first child. "A tiny miracle, isn't it?" Ron murmured as Hermione's expression again took on the concentrated look she usually had as she planned and schemed in her mind. Both Brian and Ron knew it of old and simply waited while she cogitated, knowing there was little else to be done until she was finished thinking.

"Indeed, I'll have to do some real research, of course, but just off the top of my head there are a few considerations that need to be taken into account immediately," Hermione pronounced. "Hmmm, we'll need someone totally discrete to care for him during the pregnancy, someone who won't go bleating to the newspapers as soon as they' leave the house. Also, we will need someone who can explain the whole process to us because, as I pointed out, this is impossible, even though it's happening right now!"

Nash coughed softly, not sure if he appreciated this almost stranger suddenly usurping his role in the planning of his partner and child's life. "Madam Pomfrey recommended a friend of hers, Hipaxion Bulstrode and has owled him already. We are to see him on Thursday at two."

"Ouch, now that will cost you a gold or two," Ron muttered, shaking his head. Hermione backhanded her husband in the chest hard enough to make him huff in protest, Nash and Brian sniggering at his roll-eyed expression.

"Yes, well, she's worth it." The new parents-to-be flashed each other a smile as they spoke in unison. Ron shook his head and grinned.

"However, I would like to borrow your wife, if you don't mind?" Nash said quietly. "Hermione may be needed to act as Binder if we have to perform a Wizard's Promise. I would rather have someone we both trust for that position."

Hermione smiled and nodded, happy to oblige.

oo0oo

Hipaxion Bones-Bulstrode was one of the best obstetricians the wizarding world had ever produced, and that was not just his own estimation. He was sought out by the best Pureblood families to coax the over-bred wives through the delicate process of producing an heir. His skill was such that he could charge one hundred galleons a ten minute visit and more if he had to stay for any length of time. He also did pro-bono work at St Mungo's two days a week, training students and caring for the difficult pregnancies of those who were not rich but still had enough pure blood to cause problems. The rest of the time he researched and played celebrity, keeping alive his contacts with the rich and famous.

He had first gained his enthusiasm for medicine at Hogwarts as a patient. Madam Poppy Pomfrey had been school Medi-witch at Hogwarts for only a year when Dragon Pox ran rife through the Muggle-born population. Usually the worst-hit students died of burns when the spots burned their way out in the epidemic but the tenacious Medi-witch had worked day and night to pull the three sickest patients through and had succeeded, although not without scars. Matilda Jenkins had ended up with a few scales on her left cheek, Robert Burnes with a puckered burn scar on his left thigh and Hipax, the only Pureblood to get sick, was left with a few scales on his arm. Quite a triumph for the woman so many dismissed as merely a school nurse!

Poppy Pomfrey had fostered his fascination for medicine and by seventh year she had gained special permission from the Headmaster to allow him to do an apprentice course under her supervision. During that year, he had discovered helping women have babies was the greatest challenge and the most intriguing process anyone had ever seen or heard of, better than Transfigurations, Charms and Potions all rolled into one! Caroline Marrowbit, scion of the Marrowbit family, had accidentally fallen pregnant and Madam Pomfrey had overseen the schoolgirl's pregnancy when her family turned their backs on her. Hipax had followed the young lady's progress all the way from tearful despair to triumphant delivery of a tiny baby boy. His godson, John Hipaxion Marrowbit, was a man grown now but it was still his birth and Poppy Pomfrey's encouragement that had set Hipaxion's feet on the trail of obstetrics medicine.

It had taken years; an apprenticeship at St Mungo's, then an internship at Liverpool General, a Muggle hospital, and finally a specialist course at Johns Hopkins in America before he was satisfied with his skills. Returning to magical society, he discovered the wonderful world of magically messed-up conception and a whole new area of research was laid out for his delectation. When magic was mixed with genetics and old pureblood families tied their lines to certain magical creatures then all sorts of problems and indeed, malformed foetuses occurred. The Veela cross was the most successful, of course but there were other crossbreeds that were nowhere as common and caused lots of issues for the mother as well as the child. Then there was the area of male pregnancies, also fascinating and equally rare and dangerous. Oh yes, magic was a fascinating addition to the wonder of creation! Gaining a reputation for bringing even the most delicate baby to term subsequently gave him the greatest accolade the Magical world could give; free access to almost every home in magical Britain.

When the owl arrived from Poppy asking him to see her latest case, he was both surprised and delighted. Madam Pomfrey did not ask for favours very often. He was always thrilled to help her in any way he could to repay her and show his gratitude. He had owled back immediately and several days later was sitting in his office ready for the new and as yet unnamed person to arrive.

oo0oo

Lila Littlehorn was swathed in a tasteful leaf green robe that hid most of her shape and all of her identity once the hood was pulled up. Hermione wore a simple robe of blue and purple swirls that complemented her colouring and also hid her figure. Brian and Nash were equally well but conservatively dressed as the foursome entered the offices of the obstetrician and were greeted by his receptionist who merely smiled professionally and indicated they were to be seated. Both Lila and Hermione, as the visible women, had expected forms to fill in but the two men were indifferent as they all settled on the surprisingly comfortable furniture.

A few minutes later they were called into the main office where they were greeted by a very short, rotund man whose white wispy hair seemed to have taken residence up on his chin rather than his head. He greeted them all with handshakes and graciously escorted the women to two seats before his desk, leaving the two men to conjure chairs for themselves.

Nash frowned a little but Brian merely smiled indulgently as the man who was barely taller than Professor Flitwick climbed back into his chair and steepled his fingers before his bushy white beard. "How may I help you?" he asked in a much deeper voice than expected.

All four glanced at each other and then at Nash who shrugged slightly. "There was a magical accident a few months ago and the result was pregnancy," he began.

"Really," the obstetrician chuckled indulgently. "Is it a matter of succession or a genetic incompatibility that needs to be rectified? A transfer of foetus to a new host, perhaps, although if it was a few months ago, you might have left that option a little too late."

"It was just over four months ago and even if we were considering such a thing, it would be way too late,' Brian put in, shaking his head in negation of the possibility.

Hipax frowned slightly. "So, if it's not a transfer, then… why four of you?"

Lila stirred and slipped back her hood. "I am Madam Pomfrey's current apprentice; she wanted me to supervise the week to week developments."

"I am the appointed Binder if we need to make a Wizard's promise," Hermione murmured, pursing her lips to stop a smile erupting.

"I am the father of this very unexpected but most welcome child." There was a great deal of pride in Nash's voice as he spoke clearly and almost off-handedly cast an extra silencing spell on the room.

"And I am pregnant," Brian said softly, a fond smile for his partner.

"A male pregnancy? Oh, Poppy, I LOVE you!" The tiny man bounced excitedly on his chair, clapping his hands and pressing his fingertips to his mouth, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement. "Do you know how rare this is? Oh my! Male pregnancies are one in fifty thousand or less, and…" The famous obstetrician burst out, clapping his hands in delight! "Oh, I haven't seen a male pregnancy since Lord… Harrumph, but that's a different story. How perfectly wonderful! Four months, you say, and you have been under whose care? Madam Pomfrey's, and only in the last few days? But what about the previous three months? No care at all? Oh my goodness, you must have been born under a lucky star to have kept it so long."

"Her… she is a girl," Brian corrected, feeling slightly offended at the man's reproachful tone.

"A girl? How wonderful! How unusual! Male pregnancies usually produce boys as the origins of the spell seemed to be aimed at producing heirs as a last resort."

"Really?" Hermione asked, sitting forward. "I have been madly researching this small aspect of Pureblood biology that NO ONE bothered to inform me of, over the last few days. I did catch a hint in what little amount of literature there is that it was the result some sort of Dark Spell, cast even before Merlin's time by a powerful witch, to punish a presumptuous man."

"Oh, there are all sorts of legends. Some say it started as a punishment, a necessity for a homosexual lord to have an heir, a fertility spell that went awry, all sorts of legends. The plain fact is that, if the circumstances are right, magically powerful men can get pregnant. The big trick is to stay pregnant," he said in a warning tone.

Brian nodded, clutching at Nash's hand. "I had guessed, although she seems to be hanging in there very handily. She survived inspection by Gaelic Natural magic and the botched binding of a Barrow Wight as well as an unplanned trip along a ley line to gate crash Hogwarts' wards."

Hipax drew a stunned breath, his eyes widening. "Have you been practicing magic? And your child is still in situ? Merlin! You must either be a very powerful man or an extremely lucky one."

Brian sighed and dropped his glamour. "Hi, I'm Harry Potter, welcome to my life," he muttered, as he glanced up wryly.

Hipax fell off his chair.

Lila and Hermione could not help themselves, they completely cracked up. Brian rolled his eyes and laid his head on Nash's hip, studying the small man as he scrambled to find his dignity and his chair again. Nash shook his head and smiled down on his partner, reassuringly curving an arm over Brian's shoulders. "Potter's Luck was always a potent force and how you look at it determines if you think its good or bad," he explained, making all three of his friends stop laughing, puzzled. "It's true, luck is like magic, neither good nor bad; it's what you do with it that determines the outcome."

"And surviving a killing curse was not good luck?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"Not if you are the one casting it; then it's sheer bad luck. But if you're the survivor of that killing curse, then it's pure good luck, you see?"

Brian giggled. "Never heard it explained like that before, but I like it," he chuckled before turning back to the obstetrician. "Okay, now you know the size of it, what next?"

"Yes, yes of course, Mr Potter…"

"No! Not Potter!" Brian interrupted. "Wardsmith-Rao, actually; or just Brian might be best for now."

"All right, Brian, it is. Thank you. Well, shall we proceed? Right. I take it Poppy confirmed the pregnancy?" Lila, Nash and Brian nodded. "Good. So, if you would be so good as to step into the clinic room and remove your gown… er, clothing, put on the robe and lie on the table, I will be in directly. Er, one of you… er…"

Nash followed his partner into the other room leaving the ladies behind to smirk at the Medi-wizard who sighed. "Miss Littlehorn, will you be acting as nurse through this pregnancy?"

"Poppy wants to set up a schedule of checks once a week and wants me to share the duties with her. She seems to feel that a mere man should not be left solely in charge of such a delicate task as _baking a baby_, especially one as wild as Harry Potter tends to be."

Hipax snorted and laughed, that sounded like the Poppy Pomfrey he knew so well. "Ah, you have to love that woman, gets right down to brass tacks, doesn't she? And Mrs Weasley, do you need to have a Wizard's promise from me?"

Hermione studied him closely, then smiled. "No, I don't think that's necessary, although I will warn you that, if a single hint of this hits the newspapers, I will personally come after you and make sure you never blab any secret ever again. I am sure my husband would be delighted to show you what else we have learned since we left school." Since the Golden Trio had defeated Voldemort while still at school and not even fully qualified witch and wizards, the healer took the threat very seriously. "Good, now that we understand each other, let's not keep Brian and Nash waiting, those gowns are awkward enough, without having to hang around in them." Hermione smiled at the slightly intimidated Obstetrician as she graciously waved him ahead of her.

If the gown was embarrassing, the examination was worse and Brian clung to Nash's hand like a life line as the tiny healer poked and prodded him in the most humiliating places. As Lila Littlehorn recorded the findings the man barked out, her air of pure professionalism did a lot to dispel any worry Nash had felt at her presence. Finally the healer cast the last few diagnostic spells over the patient and read the results off with an air of growing pleasure. "Wonderful, you are as healthy as the proverbial hippogriff! You will need a bit more iron and calcium to boost the levels but I'm sure Poppy told you that already. Now the final check; hold still now."

He cast an _Acclaro_ spell similar to the one Poppy had used but much more complicated. The golden haze solidified and rotated slowly over Brian's abdomen, the perfect image of a tiny baby moving ever so slightly. Both men held their breath in wonder as a small arm uncurled, and the child sucked her thumb as she turned. Hipax nodded knowingly and handed both men tissues as he used his wand to cast very specific spells over the child, reading out the results for Littlehorn to record almost automatically.

"You will note the lack of an umbilical cord, Miss Littlehorn," he lectured. "Since the child is pure magic, encased in a magical field and supported purely by magic, she does not need one to sustain her. Proportionally, she is well formed and all systems are in place and functioning. We should be able to… Ah yes, her heart beat is strong and clear." The water-rushing, fast swishing sound filled the room for a few moments then died away as Hipax released that part of the spell. "I would suggest you talk to her when you think of it; she can hear you and the sound of your voice will soothe her when she is born."

Opening the drawer under the table, he pulled out a plain round, gold locket and waved his wand over it, muttering a complex spell. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, then a chain of golden thread reached from the baby's image to the locket. For a few seconds the image wavered then was sucked down into the locket's interior. He snapped it shut and handed it to Nash, who looked at it curiously. "A baby picture," the obstetrician informed him as he cancelled the spell and ignored the sigh of disappointment from his patient. "Now, if you will dress and join us in the main office, we will discuss the rest of the pregnancy."

Ten minutes and a change of venue later, all five were sitting in a conversational grouping of armchairs, tea and biscuits on the table before them. "Any questions?" Medi-wizard Bulstrode asked, sipping his tea after giving his report on Brian's and the baby's physical condition.

"Well, yes. We know she is in there, we know she is healthy and growing, and we know I am fit and well, but how the hell will she get out when it's time to give birth? I'm not female and I don't have… a-a vagina," Brian muttered, cursing the blush that stained his cheeks bright pink.

"Yes, and that will be the tricky time. There are two basic ways to do this; one is naturally, relying on the magic to create a temporary passage, usually through the peritoneum, or perhaps through the abdomen wall, which should manifest itself at about eight months. The temporary vagina should behave in the same way as a female's and allow for a natural birth. The down side is that the hip girdle is not as pliable as a woman's and unfortunately, it breaks down the, er, pubic joint, which is both painful and hard to heal afterwards. During birth, the vaginal opening may split or may have to be cut to allow the head free passage."

Brian winced and Nash paled, both shivering as the two women squirmed in sympathy, Hermione from experience, Lila from fellow-feeling.

"And the other way?" Nash asked, gripping Brian's hand hard.

Hipax sipped his tea. "Caesarean section. If the baby reaches term and the vagina has not formed, then the child needs to be delivered by surgery. We do a c-section in the same way we deliver a woman by caesarean but the timing has to be perfect as the magical womb can collapse at any time during the procedure, which will definitely kill the child, and more often kills the parent."

"Merlin! Is there any good news?" Nash asked, turning a delicate shade of pea green.

"Your partner is fit and healthy and has managed to do a fantastic job so far without any help from anyone. Now that we know what we are dealing with, it should be a bit easier and I have high hopes for a successful outcome."

"How many male pregnancies have you dealt with?" Hermione asked shrewdly, eyeing the man who now held her friend's life and happiness in his hands.

"Personally three, with no deaths, either parent or child. I have transferred one foetus from a male pregnancy to a female host-mother successfully, too. I had one child death which was sad, but unfortunately not unexpected, as the child had not formed properly and would have been… well, deformed is a kind way of putting it." He sighed deeply. "I will not pretend that it will be all clear sailing, because it probably will not, but you mentioned Potter's Luck, Brian? So far you have had a lot of it and if we keep a positive attitude it will all go well, I am sure."

Brian sighed deeply, then grinned. "If a bunch of Gaelic Natural Magic thinks it was the best thing and funniest joke it's ever encountered, then who are we mere mortals to argue with that?"

oo0oo


	12. Coming to Terms Part III

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Author's Note:** Okay, quick note to clear something up. Any spelling, grammar or anything else mistakes in these Notes, thanks and disclaimer are all mine and my purple penned friend has had no input what-so-ever! LOL

Regards

Les

oo0oo

"'Wardsmith-Rao', humm?" Nash mused as he stroked Brian's hair and stared into the fire.

Brian cracked an eye open to see his partner's face and smiled slightly. "It's fitting," he murmured, never moving his head from Nash's lap. He loved having his hair played with, it was so relaxing.

"We should actually make that official, you know, if only for the baby's sake," Nash murmured back, carefully avoiding any emphasis on any part of his statement.

Brian sat up sharply. "You mean get married, for the baby's sake?" he asked.

Nash half smiled. "Well, not entirely; get married for our sake's too, would be a good thing. Would you marry me?" he asked curiously.

"Of course I would, if it were possible. I do love you, you know, regardless of this pregnancy thing. I let you into my trunk, didn't I? No one has ever been in there except you and I."

Nash laughed gently. "The fortress, you mean?" he teased. He had always thought Brian's perfectly decorated flat in Oxford was no home but it had come as a surprise to be invited into the battered old trunk the man always carted around. The four room flat, complete with one of the most comprehensive libraries Nash had ever seen, was fantastic and it was redolent in the scent and feel of home and Brian. The sculpture he had given his partner was displayed in pride of place in the real bedroom along with an array of photographs, brik-a-brak and the little things that turned a showplace into a home. Brian had willingly rented his Oxford flat out to one of the University Dons but the trunk had been placed in their bedroom and expanded so that it now looked like a doorway to another part of the cottage.

"Yes, but it's our fortress," Brian agreed comfortably. "Don't change the subject. _Can_ we get married?"

"Technically, no. However, we can be Bonded. As it is a magical contract, we will have to decide soon or you won't have enough residual magic to pull off your part of it."

"So, what do we have to do?"

"Well, if we had parents we could do it the Indian way but I don't think you are up to receiving five saris, er, special dresses made of fine silk and cottons. I certainly don't want to convince my maternal uncle to choose you for my bride."

"Huh?" Brian laughed.

"Well, your maternal uncle has to choose your bride and give her to you but knowing my maternal uncles, they would make sure I married Hansa whom my family wanted me to marry five years ago. It caused quite a furore when I refused."

"So the Indian way is right out, then," Brian managed to say between grinding his teeth.

Nash laughed at Brian's glare and dropped a kiss on his nose. "So that leaves the local vicar. He does both wizarding bonding ceremonies and Muggle marriages. I have to go along and have a look at his daughter's pony tomorrow so we can ask him then, if you like, and yes, I do potions for animals as well as humans, not that much difference in a lot of them."

"I like," Brian agreed, snuggling in again as strains of Bach washed gently over them.

The vicar - just call me Paul - was a lanky blond man with a prominent Adam's apple, protuberant blue eyes and fair skin, weathered and reddened to a rosy glow. Son of a long line of Squibs, he had always been aware of the magical world even though he could not participate in many of the practices and rituals. Instead he found his niche in the mixed community, serving both sides of the magical barrier with cheerful willingness. He was waiting at the drystone wall that fenced in the elderly cob with the fat brown pony that made up the vicarage livestock. He shook hands heartily and never even twitched as Nash introduced the robed young man as his betrothed. Living in a mixed Muggle and Wizarding community, same sex pairings were a lot more common than in the Muggle world.

After checking and treating the pony's fetlock with a thick paste that smelled of comfrey and clover, Nash and Brian followed the vicar into the Vicarage and his office where his wife deposited tea and cake for them before shutting the door after herself.

"So, what can I help you with?" the Vicar asked with a knowing smile, after pouring tea and offering a rather nice caraway cake.

"We wish to be Bonded and it will have to be quite soon," Nash stated baldly, bypassing any nicety of convention.

"Usually that statement follows an unexpected fecundity," the Vicar murmured with a slight smile.

"Yes." Brian said brightly.

The vicar paused, going utterly still for a moment, then continued to sip his tea without turning a hair. Brian was rather impressed with this show of imperturbability; the man was a real treasure! "I see. And what is the time frame we are looking at here?"

"My magic will be reducing steadily over the next few months until, at the birth, I will be a virtual Squib until about a month after, then everything usually goes back to normal. We need to perform the Bonding within the month if only to ensure I have enough residual magic left to hold up my part," Brian stated matter-of-factly, deciding to follow the Vicar's lead.

"That makes sense, I suppose. Witches tend to use all their resources to produce little ones so I assume it would be even more magic-consuming for a wizard."

"You have no idea…" Brian agreed fervently.

"So, are you both British citizens?"

"Yes," they chorused, then grinned at each other.

"Well, that makes it easier," Paul said, scrabbling through a desk drawer to retrieve a piece of parchment and smooth it out on the blotter. "So, we'll need to file a statement of intent with the Ministry, Births, Deaths and Marriages, you know? Are either of you Heads of Family?"

Brian put his finger up in acknowledgement.

"Humm, that complicates it a little. Have you informed your Clan members of the up-coming Bonding and have they acknowledged your right to make a match?"

"I guess I am my own clan, last of the few, if you see what I mean."

"Oh dear, I am most dreadfully sorry. Then, I will assume there are no parents or siblings to stand for you in the service? Which means a simple Pair Bonding, not a complex, Family and Clan Oath Bonding; Probably going to be a lot easier on you both at this delicate time. Now, you, Nash, any Familial Obligations you need to tend to before you are Bonded?"

"I passed my hereditary position as Defender of the Family to my cousin before I left India so no, I am without obligation, although I will have to inform them and some are not going to like it, believe me!"

"Well, not unusual, really. So, a simple Bonding ceremony, permanent or 'until Mutual Parting'? Personally, I think Mutual Parting is much better, simply because, if something drastic goes wrong, then you are not stuck with each other. '_Until death do you part_' is all very romantic but not very practical in the long run, especially if the death that parts you is a murder, if you see what I mean."

Nash snorted but they both nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Will that be easier to arrange?"

"Oh yes, different sections deal with different levels of Bonding and if your Bonding is in the 'normal' range, then it will be pretty much rubber-stamped through. If you chose the Permanent Bond, then it would be subject to much closer scrutiny. Now, you will each need to fill in your section of this form and sign it, full name and date of birth please… Good, and here… and finally here, Nash. And now you, Brian, same places. Right, Brian, you need to fill in this form here and sign it here, and here and here. Fine. Now, I sign it here, here, here and finally here and send it off for filing at the Ministry with a _Portus_! Done! Now, unless we get back a Red Tape, then we are all officially ready to set the date." He pulled down a leather bound diary and flipped it open to a rather worn pink ribbon. Running a bony finger down the entries, he shook his head and flipped to another page, then nodded. "If the paperwork comes through I can conduct a dusk ceremony on Saturday the ninth or a dawn or midnight ceremony on Sunday the tenth."

"That would give us three weeks to organise everything, and the sooner the better really. Dawn on Sunday? The Indian guests will arrive on Saturday; have a pre-Ceremony meeting Saturday afternoon with my family, which will be very necessary. Dawn ceremony Sunday and Bonding feast Sunday brunch, which allows Sunday afternoon and evening for everyone to clear off again," Nash planned aloud, Brian nodding his agreement around a yawn.

"I am not a morning person, neither of us are, but for this we can be," Brian managed to mutter as his eyes half closed.

Nash glanced down at him in fond exasperation. "This is how he goes on all the time, falls asleep at the drop of a hat,' he murmured apologetically to the Vicar as his partner's head began to droop.

"Oh, it gets worse as they get further along. My wife used to fall asleep in the middle of my Sunday sermon. It was hell on my reputation," Paul informed his cheerfully. So, I will see you in a few days with the official okey-dokey and then we can talk about the 'wheres' and the 'hows'."

"Thank you, Paul, appreciate it." Nash shook his hand, wrapped an arm around the sleeping Brian and apparated them both back home without fuss.

oo0oo

Nash gnawed on the tip of his quill, writing sporadically before he finally passed the effort over to Brian to read.

"_Dear Azeez,_

_I am getting married on Sunday the tenth in a dawn service. I would like you to be there for me and have you and Aunt Jalaja stand up as my attendants. I have reserved a trio of suites at Crestor House in Kilbridie for you and the family. This letter will serve as a Portkey for fourteen people, if you choose to come. The password is your full name. Hope you can come._

_Sarasvat"_

"Wow, that is so… so _personal_," Brian teased cheerfully. "Are you sure you should write 'dear', they may think you are gushing."

Nash growled and used the rest of the bundle of parchment to whack Brian's nearest leg. "We are a pretty formal family," he excused himself.

"Why fourteen people?"

"Because, when you invite an important member of the family, they have to bring an entourage. My aunt does not travel anywhere without her maid and two servants to look after her needs. My cousin Rushil will bring his wife, of course, and two servants, usually a maid and a guard. Azeez will bring his wife plus two guards, a maidservant and a manservant. That is the smallest retinue they can get away with. If they were going somewhere they feared might be hostile, then the retinue of guards would be much greater and mean more servants who would also be trained as guards. If they come Saturday, then they will want to inspect you on Saturday afternoon before the dinner, hence the meeting. I hope you don't mind being on display for the hoard."

"I'm… not very good at being on display," Brian said around a yawn.

"Just be yourself and you'll be fine. How is the little one?"

"Tired, and sleepy today, not too much activity, thank goodness."

Nash smiled fondly and rose to refresh their tea. Recently, the baby had started moving quite noticeably, and it was sometimes hard on Brian, whose stomach flesh rolled visibly when the child did her summersaults and kicks.

"Who are you going to ask to attend you?" Brian called out as he rubbed a particularly vicious footprint.

"Azeez and my Aunt, I think," Nash called back. "They will balance Ron and Hermione quite nicely. How is the guest list shaping up?"

Brian chuckled. They had decided to keep it small and private but that was before Molly heard about the wedding. Then the reception had grown to something like a hundred people, although everyone agreed that the Bonding Service itself should be small and private. Since there would be a mix of Muggles and Magicals, the venue had to be accessible to all and thus Crestor House was pressed into service. A grand old home that had been converted into a convention centre without losing its graciousness, capable of serving both types of needs, the family who owned it being a mix of Magical, Squib and Muggle.

Nash had been somewhat worried about the mounting cost of things until Brian had taken him to Gringotts and showed him the rank upon rank of vaults he had inherited from both his parents and his Godfather. At first Brian though Nash might put up a fuss about sharing his money but surprisingly the taller man had merely grinned and kissed him soundly. It seemed that a dowry was an essential part of Indian marriage culture and the bigger the dowry, the more acceptable the match.

"With this much money behind you, you could be a two-headed lizard woman with a nasty case of Dragon Pox and the family would still love you," he teased with not a little relief.

For a moment Brian's hormones thought he might be offended but then his commonsense cut in and he giggled too, thankful another hurdle had been passed successfully. "There are properties too," he added shyly, making Nash shake his head and laugh.

"Later! Let's just get the next few weeks over with before we add even more complications to our lives, okay?"

The question of robes was another tricky point, Madam Malkin being sworn to secrecy when Brian went in for fitting. Her eyes bulged when she saw the 'beer belly' on the rather well formed young man and went even wider when the baby kicked her hand hard enough to be felt. Before the poor woman could even open her mouth, both young men had wands out and trained on her. It took a bit of fancy talking and a very discrete spell before the robe fitting could be concluded. They both ended up with white over-robes embroidered in navy with golden threads at the edges. Plain navy suits went under them and dark gold shirts. Madam tried to persuade them to take different colours but somehow the identical robes made them feel good together.

Ron protested and wanted to go with a Gryffindor colour scheme but Hermione's good taste over-rode his desire and both attendants ended up in the blue, white and gold theme; Ron in blue robes and suit and white shirt while Hermione had dark gold robes and blue dress with gold and white embroidery to match the bridal couples'.

When asked what his attendants would be wearing, Nash merely shrugged. "Whatever they like, I should imagine," he said casually. "Our wedding parties are very different to the British way, no matched robes, just a lot of people who gather to greet the bride and groom over a period of days."

"Yes, I have been reading up and…" Hermione began, but was howled down by her husband who tackled her and stopped her comments with his mouth. Since they were seated on the lawn at Laburnum Cottage picnicking, the children piled on top of their parents and the laughing, tussling crew rolled in the grass until they were stopped by a large oak tree.

"So, is everything ready?" Ron asked, finally letting his tumbled and laughing wife up long enough to catch her breath.

"As ready as it can be," Brian assured him, resting his back against Nash's chest while watching the wrestling match with a grin from ear to ear, young Hugo curled up on the rug beside them, having earlier succumbed to the fresh air. "I have warded the suites set aside for Nash's family and we reconfigured them to something more comfortable for them to stay in. They are arriving early on Saturday to inspect the bride and make sure he isn't buying some pig in a poke."

Nash rolled his eyes as Ron made a rude comment but in reality he was a little concerned as he wasn't sure how his family would react to Brian and his child. Still, it didn't really matter as they would only be here for a few days and Brian was happy. They had been having weekly checkups with Madam Pomfrey and Lila Littlehorn who were both pleased with the progress of the baby and with Brian's health. Even his magic was holding up very well, not draining as fast as they had thought it might at first.

Medi-Obstetrician Bulstrode had been recommending and Nash had been fine-tuning the potions needed to keep Brian functioning at top form, both practitioners spending considerable time discussing the test results and how to compensate for whatever fluctuations Brian's magic managed to manifest that particular day. Sometimes Brian felt like a science experiment but one careful and heartfelt hug from Nash soon dispelled any upset he might feel. One thing neither of them ever grew tired of was the weekly scans their medical personnel ran to check the baby's growth. The golden haze-limned image would hover in midair and both young men would worship as the golden child moved and stretched or curled up shyly. The original plain gold locked Hipax had given Nash now contained a series of images of the little girl and was one of their most treasured possessions. To keep it safe, Nash wore it at all times, even to bed at night, which made Brian laugh but he never suggested his love remove it.

oo0oo

Soon Saturday was upon them and both young men were up and dressed far too early for Brian's taste. He whined as he slipped black robes over his long jumper and carefully enchanted trousers that stretched over his bulging belly comfortably. The robes, full and billowing, hid his bulk in their folds so he merely looked chunky rather than pregnant. It wasn't ideal but a pregnant man going out in public would inevitably cause comment… lots of very loud and _unwelcome_ comment!

Crestor House looked gorgeous in the early autumn sun, the unseasonably warm weather showing clear blue skies and the promise of a warm fine day. The Portkey reception area was in the garden, surrounded by flowering hedges and manicured lawns. No rain repellent charms were needed as the Portkey brought the large group in, half of them facing outwards, wands drawn. One of Brian's eyebrows rose as he was subjected to a very professional scrutiny by the male half of the party but Nash was not intimidated. He strode forward, a wide grin on his face as he greeted the most important members of the party, a man a few years younger than him and an extraordinarily bulky older man who sported the biggest, blackest beard Brian had seen for a long time. There was a distinct family resemblance between all the men, although the women of the party were a diverse group.

A tiny old woman with a white braid hanging down to her knees grabbed Nash's arm and turned him imperiously, hugging him around the waist while he carefully enfolded her in his arms. The second youngest woman of the party was greeted with some respect too as was the very youngest woman, a girl really. Brian detected quickly hidden surprise in Nash's expression.

Nash's casting of a discrete translation charm drew his family's attention and suddenly Brian found himself facing every eye in the party, a faint flush colouring his cheeks until he straightened regally and bowed ever so slightly. Nash hurried over and pulled him up to the group, introducing the men with a wave of his hand and a casual '_this is Brian'_. Acknowledging the introductions, Brian suggested they move to the house and get everyone settled before they went to brunch as the time difference might be a little upsetting to the system.

Crestor House had provided a very good meal for their first one, although the family cook they had brought with them was eager to try the kitchen that came as part of the suite. Most of the party disappeared leaving Azeez, Rushil of the black beard, Rushil's wife, Neha, Nash's Aunt Jalaja and the young girl who proved to be Azeez's wife, Pari. The two younger women kept very much to the background as others of the party served the Head of Family and his two Defenders of Family. Nash seemed right at home and it was strange to hear him called Sarasvat rather than Nash, but the way his family pronounced the name sounded just right.

"So, tell us why you have decided to marry some English girl instead of Hansa, whom we chose especially for you?" Azeez asked, half teasing as he lounged back in his chair.

Nash shook his head. "Did I not say I would marry no girl, no matter how pretty or docile and accommodating she was?"

"True," Rushil said reasonably, still holding his tea cup carefully. "And did we not decide that you must have an heir _of your body_ or there would be no marriage for you?"

"Also true," Sarasvat, murmured, hiding his smile in his napkin before he turned to his Aunt. "And have you any comment to add, Oh Wise One?" he teased slightly.

"What have you done, you naughty little boy?" the dignified woman asked, tapping his arm with her fan.

"You set conditions so that if I ever chose to marry, you tried to make sure I married a woman but, sorry people, not happening. We, Brian and I, are unique; we love each other very much and we are both powerful magical beings, so powerful that we have done just as you told me to, fulfilled the conditions to produce an heir _of my body!_" There was a sudden hard note in Nash's voice and Brian slipped his wand into his hand unobtrusively as the two men facing them stirred, eyes narrowing as they slowly turned to study the blond.

"Are you trying to tell us you have made a man pregnant?" Azeez asked in wide eyed amazement.

"Humm, came as something of a shock to me, too," Brian put in resignedly. "Still, I can think of worse things happening."

"Impossible!" Rushil's wife, Neha, said flatly, then ducked her head and blushed when the others turned to look at her. "Man born of Man will live forever!" she added in a soft seemingly terrified voice.

"Good thing it's a girl, then," Nash answered dryly.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Jalaja questioned, intently studying the blond at her favourite nephew's side.

"Completely. Do you want to see the pictures?" Nash was grinning from ear to ear as he pulled out his locket, making Brian's eyes roll.

"'_I'm not obsessed, I just like to brag,'_" Brian muttered, as the golden picture of his daughter sprang free of the locket and rotated slightly, lending a soft light to her father's face.

Azeez's wife, Pari, leaned forward and attempted to touch the baby's head but the light was untouchable and Brian's gaze softened at the hungry look she gave the image. Nash smiled at Brian before pinning his male relatives with a hard look. "Conditions are fulfilled, yes?"

"A pretty picture in a locket is not proof enough…" Rushil began, but was cut off by a rude snort.

"Bloody hell, the things I do for you, Nash," Brian muttered as he stood up and opened his robes, then pulled his jumper up with an impatient hand. "You want to feel her kicking, too?'

The two men blanched as the younger girls covered their mouths in astonishment, a giggle coming from Pari. Aunt Jalaja leaned over and pressed her hand on the tightly rounded skin, a smile breaking out as the little one obliged her with a kick.

"Seems a strong and healthy child," she commented with a nod in Nash's direction. "Your conditions are fulfilled, the marriage will be recognised, won't it, Azeez?"

"Damn it, Sarasvat, you are so bent!" Azeez exclaimed, a laugh breaking out as he shook his head wonderingly. "Oh, sorry; yes, he has fulfilled the conditions and he can get married and all that stuff. Happy now?"

"Well, it does save me having to smack you one, doesn't it?" Nash replied dryly, but his expression held a touch of relief and pride as he curled an arm around Brian's waist and dropped a kiss on his ear. "You can put your wand away now," he murmured into his hair.

"Who needs a wand?" Brian replied grumpily, wrapping his robes around himself before reseating and reaching for the saffron rice. Very thoughtfully he added some curried vegetables and topped it off with several slices of peach and a few prawns. A judicious touch of pepper and he had a meal fit for a person with no sense of taste at all, or so Pari chuckled, making him shrug. "I have learned to eat just about anything, believe me… and it does taste good, really."

Azeez suddenly began to giggle, making his elders stare at him in surprise. "I just thought. Those saris and earrings we brought as a wedding gift are right out, aren't they? Unless…"

"No. I am gay, not a cross-dresser, although, they can always be put aside for when she is old enough to appreciate them," Brian replied, then cocked his head in Nash's direction. "Unless you…" He laughed at his partner's slightly outraged expression.

"Oh, come on, you'd look really good in the gold and blue one," Azeez teased his cousin mercilessly, making him roll his eyes.

"Especially when he gets all fancied up and curls his hair," Rushil added thoughtfully.

"Ah, they know you so well," Brian murmured deadpan.

"Laugh it up, boys, we'll see who's laughing when you have to stand up in the predawn dark in front of all those people and remember your lines!" Nash turned his nose up in mock disgust, making them all chuckle. "And you aren't allowed coffee any more," he added with a wicked grin which made Brain sigh sadly, much to everyone's amusement.

oo0oo

The predawn darkness was indeed cold and bitter, the rustle of material, the slight cough of a restless guest making Brian tense and wary. Hermione felt her fingers itch to grasp her wand while Ron's head moved back and forward unceasingly until he snorted very softly. "Feels like old times," he murmured out of the side of his mouth, making Brian snort equally softly.

"At least we know this raid will not end in Death Eaters and AKs over short distances and the only spells to be flying will be good ones," Hermione reminded them with a smile. "Are you ready for this, Harry, er, Brian? It's a big step, especially when you've only known each other for six months, you know?"

"I know, Mum." He sniggered as Hermione rolled her eyes right on cue. "And I'm more than ready. Sometimes you know someone forever and are never entirely comfortable but with another person, it only takes a look, or one word and you know that's _the_ one. He is the right one…"

"Heads up, guys, it's time," Ron muttered, straightening his robes and nodding to where the vicar was signalling them forward.

With Brian in the lead, Hermione to his right and Ron to his left in the arrow formation they usually adopted on less salubrious occasions, they made their way down the path and up to the raised area in the churchyard specially created for Bonding ceremonies. A rustle and a sigh in the stygian darkness were the only clues that an audience surrounded them, waiting for the service to commence. Nash and his attendants approached from the right, both parties mounting the mound in step and in time. The attendants stopped at the edge of the area and the main participants stepped forward to meet before the vicar who wore full robes and held an ancient scroll. He had them hold hands, right to right, left to left, as he spoke the Latin words, calling forth their magic to mingle and bind.

Brian had hoped he could muster enough power to perform his part in the service but when it was required, his magic rose magnificently to meet Nash's in the middle, over their clasped hands, a tiny, third thread adding itself to the mix, unlooked for but very welcome. The gently swirling ball of light under-lit their faces as the service progressed, their serene smiles clear for all to see and envy. The vicar continued the blessing and evoked protection for the new couple as the sun's rays sprang over the horizon and gilded them with its autumn warmth. It lit up the waiting audience who gasped in delight as the pale ghost robes turned golden, the gold threads sparkling like tiny chips of fire. The ball of magical light blazed even brighter as it enveloped the participants and caused the 'bride' to lose his glamour, which startled a few of the audience who were close enough to notice. It made the bridegroom grin and bend forward to kiss his nose teasingly. Brian raised his head to share a deep kiss as their magic splashed over them, and absorbed back into their beings, strengthening the tie that now Bound them as a couple with child.

As the vicar pronounced them Bound and turned them to face the audience, a camera snapped and a shower of rice and flower petals floated over them, '_not that they needed any more fertility,_' George Weasley laughed and ducked his mother's swipe at his head. Rolling his eyes, Nash brushed a flower petal off his cheek and held his hand out to Brian to escort him toward the white pavilion set up in the side garden surrounded by roses and orange trees, all magically charmed to be in bloom and fruit, the scent sweet and inviting. Their attendants hovered around them as they made their way slowly to the resting place set aside for them. Usually the newly Bonded had used up all their magical energy and had to rest and replenish but, even in Brian's lowered state, they were quite capable of walking under their own steam. No one was brash enough to try and touch the newly Bonded couple in case they disturbed the freshly blended magic but everyone called greetings and well wishes as they passed, threw saffron coloured rice, flowers and tossed traditional, brightly coloured magical eggs that burst open to reveal singing birds.

Once inside the pavilion, Nash helped Brian to the couch and settled him onto it gently, having felt the carefully hidden falter in his step as they paraded. Madam Pomfrey slipped in through the rear entrance and hurried over to cast a careful spell on the baby, tsking as she handed over a potion for Brian to take. While Nash and Brian were resting, the Weasleys, Azeez and Aunt Jalaja were quickly served tea and a light snack to tide them over until the brunch was served at Crestor House. Hermione had cast a translation spell over herself and Ron but it proved unnecessary as both Indians spoke flawless English. Hermione found the older woman to be a fascinating mix of modern, hard-headed business sense and old fashioned docility. They ended up in an in-depth discussion on commercial law which left Ron and Azeez staring at each other with the boggle-eyed look Ron often wore when his brilliant wife was being… well… brilliant.

"Wonderful, isn't she?" Ron finally commented, snagging another of the pastries the house-elves had left on the sideboard and biting in enthusiastically.

"It does not worry you that your wife is so… so intelligent?" the younger man asked curiously.

"Hell no! We went to school together and if Hermione was not so brilliant, I would not be an Auror now. Only her constant nagging made me study and use the lazy brain I've got so I'd get somewhere. She is a very special and completely brilliant woman whom I had the utterly undeserved luck to marry."

Azeez nodded gravely. "And this Brian; is he a good man? Is Sarasvat equally lucky to have bonded with him?"

"Harry Potter is a great man," Ron said firmly, then flushed just a little. "Look, Brian is actually Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, but he chose to hide his identity because of all the publicity. He is a brave man, a powerful wizard, and an all around great guy…"

"Who is about to choke on his halo," Brian said dryly, as he and Nash joined them at the table. "I could murder a cup of tea."

Madam Pomfrey stayed for a cup of tea, also, meeting Nash's relatives and asking how the Weasleys were before slipping away again. Hermione had wondered how they were going to manage two hours of conversation with total strangers but it was over too soon by her reckoning. Nash's aunt was fascinating and both women found a lot in common, each being very intelligent and learned in similar fields. Ron and Azeez found common enthusiasm in Quidditch of course, Ron promising to introduce the Indian to his sister, the famous Seeker and to make sure he got Ginny's autograph before the end of the brunch. Azeez was almost bouncing on his toes when the small gong chimed and they all rose to escort the new couple to Crestor House where their friends and family were waiting to greet and fete their new marriage.

oo0oo

The wedding feast was a huge success, the staff of Crestor House outdoing themselves to serve a meal fit for a King, never mind Heads of Family and Lords of the Wizarding world. Molly had designed and made the wedding cake which was delicious and beautiful, everyone agreed. Presents were opened, thanks given, gossip swapped and Azeez managed to score his autograph from Ginny who thought he was very cute in his eagerness. Brian was somewhat embarrassed when the ladies cornered him and started telling baby war stories. Fortunately he was rescued by Lila Littlehorn who dragged him off to take a potion, then laughed at him when he thanked her so fervently.

Nash drank too much. The Weasley twins managed to prank Rushil who took it in good part and even ended up in a huddle with them, words like 'franchise' and 'over-seas markets' being bandied about quietly. Molly, Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall and Aunt Jalaja set up their own table in another corner and had a fabulous time exchanging 'when they were little…' tales that made Jalaja laugh so hard her earrings rang like small gongs.

Hermione, Fleur, Angeline and Katie took the shy Indian girls and Mandy under their wings and made sure they had a fabulous time. Floo addresses were exchanged and plans made to write once the festivities were over and everyone had gone home.

All in all, the Bonding and wedding brunch were deemed triumphant. When the happy new couple left on their honeymoon to a destination only Madam Pomfrey knew, they were sent on their way with good wishes and merry cheers, the party continuing well into the afternoon, despite their absence.

oo0oo


	13. And Then There Were Three Part I

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Buckets of Thank Yous:** As always, I cannot say this was a lone effort. Without the input and comments from the BeST this would not be a rounded or finished tale. Having a good beta is vitally important to completing any work and I have the BeST three in the business. Zarathustra46 has her own published work on FFNet and I suggest you go have a really good read. Nathaniel_hp runs Challenges and writes Ron/Remus perfectly, Google him, it's well worth it. The Wicked Bunjhiny doesn't write but that purple pen of hers is a killer and her grasp of punctuation leaves me stunned. (She is so damned good at it!) Thanks again, Guys.

**Author's Note:** Sorry this is a bit slow in coming, as have been the replies to your reviews. Sadly, real life gets in the way of enjoyment and a new job has been keeping me on the hop. Still, it should all settle down soon, I hope!

Regards

Les

**Part 5 – And Then There Were Three**

The day after the Bonding, they left on an extended honeymoon, one of Nash's classmates having agreed to run his shop in the mean time. The Portkey took them to India to Nash's family for a week where they were feted and fawned upon by the whole extended family and friends. It was a fun time with presents and outings and wonderfully strange food and drink, enough to keep Brian in a constant state of wonder, especially when he was allowed to ride an elephant on the family tree plantation.

Nash merely rolled his eyes and tried to stop his intrepid partner doing anything too stupid when the mad mood was on him, which made his male relatives laugh and his female relatives shake their heads. Most just thought the new English 'bride' was very eccentric and somewhat porky but they all knew 'she' was very rich and that made up for any deficits of form or figure, after all. Only Neha and Pari knew the truth of the matter but they had been sworn to secrecy. They kept quiet even though Neha was as jealous as sin.

"I desperately want children of my own but…," she confessed one afternoon when Brian was resting in a cool parlour with the two girls, the usual contingent of servants, guards and chaperones dismissed. "They say not to fret, it will happen when it's time and that I am still young yet; too young to worry so much." There was a wealth of bitterness in her tone that made Brian pat her hand in commiseration.

"Have you been to see a doctor about it?" Brian asked quietly, taking her concerns so much more seriously than anyone else ever did. "Look, if you think there's a problem, and you obviously do, then here is the man you want to see. He is expensive but just tell him it's on me and my recommendation, and he will see you."

Other little cameo scenes seemed to leap to the forefront of Brian's mind whenever he thought about that week in India -- floating candles on the river at night, the stream of tiny flickers making swirling patterns on the water as the tea-lights were caught in the eddying currents of the river; the girls of the extended family dancing, their colourful saris and little bells on their wrists chiming sweetly as they swirled and dipped; the laughing circle of men who watched eagerly as they handed him a bowl of innocuous looking curry that nearly burned his brain synapses and nasal sinuses out; Nash bedecked in traditional costume training with his cousins in a very fast and dangerous looking martial art, sweat turning his half naked body to polished gold.

Soon the week was over far too quickly and they were Portkeying to their honeymoon destination in the Great Barrier Reef off the coast of Northern Queensland. The island was all but hidden from Muggle eyes, half of the island a busy wizarding resort that offered families boating, fishing, snorkelling, and fun in the sun. Charter boats took out reef watchers or charter fishing parties regularly and the evenings were filled with luaus and dances.

The other half of the island was divided into privacy screened sections with their own private coves and fresh water waterfalls spilling into catch basins. Palm trees lined pristine white sands and warm blue-watered bays brimming with tame fish and hammocks slung in the shade. Small wallabies came down to drink at the waterholes at night, possums ate from the feeder boards and sugar Gliders gazed big-eyed from the safety of the bush.

The house they were given a Portkey to had no external walls, which was the first surprise. The bathroom had a shower with a curtain and a huge hot-tub that was under the palm thatched roof but completely exposed to the outdoors, overlooking the waterhole. A huge canopied bed filled the bedroom with mosquito netting billowing around it, offering a view of the bushland and the edge of the cove. The kitchen was equipped with a fabulous oven and cooktop but also a flat bench where a tap of the wand and a called order would produce anything wanted from raw ingredients to cook their own meals to a complete five-course cordon bleu dinner accompanied by wine and coffee. The main lounge room was a mass of sprawling chairs, sofas and low tables for lounging, relaxing and playing quiet games out of the sun.

A skiff was beached at one end of the cove, fishing equipment, diving equipment and volley balls for the energetic were all provided. A tap of the wand would bring a boat and crewman over to take them out on the reef if they so desired. It was a fabulous, warm, relaxing place to spend their honeymoon; no people, no pressure, just warm fun in the sun, clothing optional.

"You know, I could really get used to this," Nash teased as Brian handed him a glass of pineapple juice and folded gracefully onto the low lounge under the trees.

"I could get used to you looking like that, too," Brian murmured, eyeing his partner's completely naked length, the sun having gilded his skin, making it a dark golden brown.

Even Brian's fish-belly white places were tanned to a warm gold rather than lobster red as they had been on the first day. Going naked in the sun sounded great until those dangly bits were burned to a crisp. The sunburn had been a sharp reminder to cast the sunscreen spell, or else! Baby liked the warmth too, moving in slow, graceful arcs that made her parent smile or squirm depending on which internal organ was buffeted.

"It's hard to believe we've been here a whole month already," Brian mused, rubbing more oil into his belly, good for browning and for preventing stretchmarks, he had found.

"Humm. I'm not looking forward to going back to England. Essex in early November is nothing to look forward to." Nash sighed deeply.

"Never mind; we have to stop in Italy first so it will be a sort of easing in period," Brian reminded him, studying the sketch block he was working on once again.

"You know you can get alabaster in England, don't you?" Nash asked gently.

Brian shot him a sly grin. "Of course you can, but it's cold in England and Italy has much better wines and food than home."

Nash merely shook his head and went off to sleep. His incorrigible Bonded continued his sketching of the Malfoy sculpture he was planning to create. Adriana Malfoy had commissioned the piece in time for her husband's birthday in June, a gift and a centrepiece for her garden. Despite the timing, Brian had taken the commission, the planning and choosing of the stone to be done while he was pregnant, the hard magical work to be done after he was somewhat recovered from the birth. Apparating back and forward to his studio might be a bit of a drain on his resources but he thought he could manage quite nicely.

oo0oo

The journey home was slower than either of them thought, the weather taking a turn for the worse. After a particularly nasty snowstorm that froze out the Portkey station in Milan, they decided to divert to Turkey and then across to Madrid before finally heading back to Essex; yet the roundabout way was exhausting. Even with a few days rest in Spain, Brian felt completely done in as they landed in their front garden at Laburnum Cottage. Fortunately, Nash had Floo called Mandy who had lit the fires and stocked the kitchen for their return. She had even supplied a thick lamb casserole with dumplings, and aired out the beds for them.

"That girl deserves a raise," Brian murmured, huddled in an afghan before the roaring fire in the sitting room.

"She made Sticky Date pudding and custard for you," Nash tempted, plonking down beside him and wrapping a long arm over his Beloved's shoulders.

"Two raises?"

Nash snorted. "We have an appointment with Hipax tomorrow or I would suggest we don't move from in front of this fire for the rest of the week."

"Can't he come here? I don't want to go outside, there must be two feet of snow over everything and its wet, slushy snow."

"Don't whine, it does not become you," Nash reproved humorously. "There's a surprise for you out in the garden, when you feel up to facing the chill. Besides, we have to go shopping some time this month, Christmas is coming and all that fuss."

"What sort of surprise?" Brian asked, poking his nose out of the blanket cocoon just enough to turn his head and pin his partner with a rather more green than he had done before. As his magic waned, his glamour faded too and he was slowly returning to his original appearance of dark hair and green eyes. Nash had to admit that, while he liked Brian's blond look, he loved his green eyes.

"I hope she has your eyes," he murmured thoughtfully, the crackle of the fire hypnotic as the time change caught up with them both.

"We're going to have to decide on names, you know," Brian reminded him softly before his breathing evened out and he fell asleep, propped on Nash's shoulder.

The darker man smiled down fondly and dropped a kiss on his messy hair. "I know, Lover, I know, but that's tomorrow's battle," he murmured as he carried the sleeping man up to bed.

oo0oo

"How do you feel in yourself?" Hipax asked, palpitating the rather more rounded mound of Brian's belly. Baby kicked him back and Brian grunted as it hurt.

"Good, until you started pummelling me," he complained half humorously.

"Yes, she is a vigorous mover, I'll give her that; very strong and healthy. And you are physically healthy, too. How is your magic? It registers somewhat low on the Wallinthorpe scale, but then originally, you were very high on the scale, if not over the top. So, you are not as low as I had expected at this point in the pregnancy."

Brian chewed on a finger for a second, then sighed. "I'm useless except for the basic charms and spells. I can't work on my carving, except physically, and anything beyond a simple _Lumos_ is far beyond me. Thank Merlin for Nash who is really good about most charms. He caught me hand washing some robes the other day and hit the roof. Like most wizards, he thinks Muggles are the pits and anything they do should be classified as a dangerous sport." Brian laughed, but Hipax did not.

"You should not be doing anything too strenuous, you realise."

"I know, I know, but if I do nothing, I will go insane!" Brian snapped, his mood growing dark in an instant.

"Have you been practicing the breathing exercises I gave you? And the muscle control training?" the obstetrician asked, ignoring Brian's mood swing.

"Yes, yes, as if I would be allowed to forget! Nash, Mandy, Hermione and bloody Ron have all been on my case as well as Lila and Madam Pomfrey! Honestly, I can't even stand up without someone saying '_remember to use your leg muscles_,' and '_don't forget your deep breathing exercises_'! They make me fed-up just getting out of bed! Why can't you all just leave me alone for once?" he bellowed, then burst into tears and pounded a fist on the bed he was perched on.

Used to mini-tantrums in his office, Hipax handed him a tissue and waited out the storm, which passed rather quickly. "They're only concerned for your welfare, Brian; your's and your child's. Have you thought of any names yet?" he asked to divert the slightly embarrassed man.

Brian chose to go with the flow. "Yeah, Lily Louisa Potter-Wardsmith-Rao. I realise there is more name than baby at the moment but Hermione said I had to include Potter and Wardsmith for legal reasons, and of course Rao as that's Nash's name; but Lily and Louisa are for both our mothers, which is rather nice, don't you think?"

"Very pretty names," Hipax agreed, with a deep breath. Brian Wardsmith was excessively appealing with his big green eyes swimming in residual tears and his softly trembling under lip. No wonder Nash Rao was so utterly enthralled with the man. "So, how is your sculpture progressing?"

Brian lit up with enthusiasm. "Fantastic! I can do a lot of the preparation without magic, roughing out the blocks, taking measurements and doing the gross carving with power tools. Do you know what an air chisel is? Oh good. When Nash said he had a surprise for me after we got back from our honeymoon, I had no idea he had built me a studio on his land and actually had it supplied with Muggle electricity so I could easily work. He's wonderful!"

"Not overdoing it, are you? Even with power tools, you still have to be careful."

"Humph! I work one hour and rest two, just as Nash insists. I only work for fifteen minutes with the air chisel before I go do something easy like hand-rubbing for fifteen minutes. Sometimes I even cheat and go five minutes over but then I have to run to the loo so, hey, even my own body is a watchdog to make sure I don't cheat too much," he muttered rebelliously, making Hipax laugh.

"Usually, I have to drive my ladies to do any exercise at all but with you, I have to think of ways to tie you to a sofa for proper rest periods!" he teased as he helped Brian off the examination table. "So, keep up the potions. Tell Nash to add more iron and calcium. Spend an extra fifteen minutes a day under the sunlamp and don't work too hard. With Christmas just around the corner you are going to be run off your feet and you will need your stamina for other things."

oo0oo

Christmas shopping at seven and a half months pregnant was not fun! Oh, it started that way, the planning of the expedition with Hermione and Lila, writing lists of things he would buy for everyone. A lot of it he could owl for; things for the Weasleys and his friends at the Warder's office. But for Nash he wanted something special and that meant a trip to Diagon Alley. Hermione and Molly decide to accompany him, both women professing to want something special too but Brian thought it was probably more to play watchdogs.

They met at the Burrow and Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron from there, nodding a greeting to Shell Tamolin, the barkeep, old Tom's granddaughter. The place was well filled with the pre-Christmas crowds, many children being dragged around by parents out to get the bargains before they were all gone. After the quietude of Kilbridie, Brian was surprised at how claustrophobic the crowds made him feel. All he wanted to do was cross his arms over his concealed baby and tell everyone to keep away! Nash had cast a concealing and protection spell over him that morning as he hadn't the spell power to do it for himself these days but it was not helping much. It was taking most of his reserves just to keep his energy up enough to eat properly for two.

When his magic dipped below the recommended level, Mandy had taken him to her friend who was a hairdresser and had his hair manually coloured and styled, the dark black bleached to a nice shade of gold, then paler and darker highlights scattered through it. Maintaining his glamour was hard work in his weakened state and this way, even if the magic broke, he would still be a blond although his eyes would turn pure green, a look which Nash thoroughly appreciated. However, the main purpose was to free up that little bit of energy for consumption by their child.

Going to Diagon Alley was a small rebellion against the gradual betrayal of his body, or so he thought, and if he took it easy he would be fine. Besides he was really fed up with being stuck in the house all the time, it wasn't something he was used to any more. Wandering in and out of shops, Brian found everything except something for Nash. It wasn't that he was hard to buy for; just that Brian didn't want to get him anything potions related for once. Hermione laughed at his stubborn refusal but good-naturedly followed him into shop after shop until they came to the jewellers where Molly pointed to a display of clocks.

"I always found my child tracker clock to be a great comfort," she remarked as they entered the small, cosy space.

"What a good idea, although it isn't really just for Nash, though, is it?"

"Not really, I suppose," Hermione conceded as Molly wandered off to look at some cloak pins displayed on another counter.

The shop keeper, a rotund little witch, came over to serve them, pointing out the various features of the clocks on display: a mother of pearl face, the facility to add more hands. He ended up choosing a simple and elegant enamel and wrought iron clock in a rosewood case that chimed the quarters and the hours as well as showed the real time on a small secondary clock face set into the main face. It also had the feature to add more hands if needed.

"It's beautiful but still not quite what I had in mind as a special present," Brian complained as Hermione shrank it and handed the small parcel to him to put in his pocket.

They were still engrossed in discussing Nash's special present when someone jostled Brian, causing him to stumble into Hermione. She caught him but in that moment someone else bellowed '_Finite Incantatum_' and a camera exploded light into his face. Brian threw his hands around his belly as every parcel in his pocket suddenly expanded to full size, tearing his robes to shreds and tripping Hermione who landed on her hands and knees on the pavement. Molly's old battle-honed reflexes sprang up and her wand fairly leaped to her command as she cast _Protego_ with one hand and fired off a rather nasty hex with the other. People screamed, parents pulled children out of the firing line as others drew wands and took up positions of strength. The war may have ended some ten years previously but no one took safety for granted any more. They had finally learned in the last few months of the war that the only reliable defence were quick reflexes and firm retaliation.

There was a startled gasp and exclamations of disgust as someone grabbed the back of Brian's hair and dragged his face up. For a second he had an impression of a circus clown, then all the colours came into focus and he snarled furiously. "How dare you!"

There was an explosion of uncontrolled magic and the hand in his hair was ripped away as the woman in front of him was bodily hurled ten feet, landing on her well padded arse on the cobblestones in front of Molly, who pointed her wand and snapped '_incarcero'_ with relish. Hermione added an animagus containment spell for good measure as Molly hurried over to help Brian to his feet, murmuring a concealment glamour over his distended belly.

Before he could quietly slip away, the photographer suddenly found himself on the business end of two wands held by extremely competent and angry witches.

"Well, well! Rita Skeeter, and accomplice," Hermione drawled, staring down at the rope-entwined woman contemptuously. "And to what do we owe this… pleasure?"

The reporter swivelled her head as best she could to smile hungrily at Brian, half hidden behind Molly. "Harry Potter, still trying to avoid our little interview, are you?" she purred.

Brian frowned and looked behind him, then turned back with a creditable frown. "Me?" he asked, pointing to his own chest. "Lady, you are strange!"

"Come now, Mr Potter… Harry, everyone knows you fled the country after the war to lick your wounds and hide your complete nervous breakdown from your friends and family. How do you feel now?" the reporter asked, eagerly.

Brian laughed. "Honey, you are really, really weird. If I am having a nervous breakdown, it's probably because you nearly made me die of fright, attacking me like that. And, incidentally, if you have damaged any of my Christmas presents, I am going to sue your ass, you understand? Now, even I, a stranger to the country, know who Harry Potter is but I do assure you, regardless of any risks and challenges, I am not Potter. I am, however, a very pissed off man who is not at all happy at being assaulted in the middle of the street by an insane bimbo with all the dress sense of a dyslexic rabbit! Not to mention her pet incandescing microbe!" The photographer shrank from the sheer malevolence in his glare. "Now, Hermione, call an Auror, please. I want her charged with assault with intent to cause grievous bodily harm, battery, slander, malicious mischief, and anything else you can think of in the next few minutes. And once the Aurors are finished with her, I want a civil suit taken out against her with everything you think appropriate; money no object. I want her ass in a sling and I want it destroyed! I have had enough of her and her malicious tongue…"

"You can't muzzle the press," Rita smirked. "Try it and I will certainly make your life a living hell!"

"Really?" The look on the young man's face made quite a few people back away as he smiled, a faint breeze beginning to stir the snow still lying in slushy heaps around the Alley. "You are an illegal Animagus. You have assaulted an innocent bystander. You have used your pen to malign many a private and public figure. You gave secrets to the Death Eaters when Voldemort was trying his hand. You have done more harm in this world than many of the top criminals and you have ruined more blameless people, killed through your malicious gossip than any other person in our world!"

"You can't go around accusing me of that! I never gave away secrets to V-V-Voldemort."

"Never? '_Voldemort suspected of living in Riddle Manor, Aurors to go on secret raid_'. That caused the deaths of six Aurors as well as tipped off Voldemort that we were on his trail. '_Harry Potter spotted outside Derby_'. That one caused twenty-six Death Eaters to kill nearly one hundred innocent people trying to find him, even though he was miles away at the time, yet you made that headline up to sell papers. '_Ministry Officials Incapable of Stemming the Death Eater Rampage_. _Is Voldemort Right_?' I seem to remember that article urged people to consider that they would be better off under Voldemort's rule than the Ministry's. Just when things are settling down and the war damage is being repaired, what headline do you come up with but, '_Amelia Bones, Death Eater Sympathiser?_' That alone is enough to have you tried for treason. But I think '_Harry Potter, the next Dark Lord'_ was possibly the second stupidest mistake you ever made in your campaign against Potter. This one is your worst because you see I am not a child to be bullied and intimidated, but a very rich and powerful man. You, my dear, have just made me your enemy!"

"Are you threatening me?" she purred.

"Nope, I never threaten," Brian purred back as the Aurors arrived.

oo0oo

Exhausted, Brian flopped down on the couch as soon as he stepped out of the Floo. Hermione followed and quickly covered him with an afghan, sliding a pillow under his head. It amused her that the boy who could not sleep had become the man who could not stay awake. Still, she was pot-boiling mad over Skeeter's behaviour and was already plotting what precedents and statutes she could use to bring charges against the pushy, malicious woman. Skeeter and her poisoned quill had indeed cost many lives during the war but she had somehow miraculously escaped retribution when the war ended. Perhaps it was because there were other, more visible enemies to be brought to justice. Perhaps she had too much dirt on too many people to make it convenient to give her, her day with _Veritaserum_.

She wandered into the kitchen and made a cup of tea, laughing at the neat row of canisters each marked with different ingredients. Deciding it was a tar and chocolate day, she grabbed a package of chocolate biscuits and spooned a heavy amount of Russian Caravan into a fat bodied pot and added boiling water rather sparingly.

"There's Firewhiskey in the cupboard if it's that bad," a voice suddenly sounded from behind her and she screamed as she whipped around and fired off a hex.

Nash jumped back and ducked as the flame hex scarred the ceiling, cancelled a second later by a sheepish wave of the wand. "Sorry, you scared me and it _has_ been one of those days!" Hermione apologised and repaired the damage while Nash eyed her warily.

"Is Brian okay? I saw him asleep on the couch and I wondered if the shopping had worn him out."

"Shopping and a run-in with Rita Skeeter who seemed to think she could hex anyone with impunity that she thought might be Harry Potter, right up until the Aurors came and took her away!" Hermione snorted and gulped the extra strong tea.

Nash blinked. "But Brian _is_ Harry Potter."

"So? She didn't actually know that and even if he had it tattooed on his forehead, that doesn't give her the right to hex him in the middle of Diagon Alley!"

"What did she cast on him?" Nash demanded, hurrying through to run a diagnostics charm over his sleeping partner. "Merlin! His magical levels have dropped more than thirty points since this morning! Floo through to Hipax immediately, would you, please, Hermione? I'll get the strengthening draft."

There was a flurry of movement as the two worked in coordination to stabilise Brian's magical field and to strengthen his physical being. As soon as the obstetrician stepped into the room, he added a small spinning object that collected magic from the surrounding area and fed it directly to his patient in a thin but steady trickle.

"That's a leech!" Hermione accused, studying the silver and black disk carefully, feeling it pull at her core, gentle but insistent.

"Yes," Hipax agreed with a sigh, but did not stop the insidious little toy as he cast yet another spell over Brian's still body. "I know it's classed as a Dark Magic artefact but I have special Ministry permission to use it as a tool to assist expectant mothers in difficulty. Once it's tuned I usually set it outside the room for half a day to collect free magic. So, what did he do to use up all his reserves so unexpectedly?"

"Bloody Skeeter cast a '_Finite Incatatem'_ on him while we were shopping. "_The press has a right…"_ according to her." The contempt was nearly palatable as it rolled off Hermione in waves. "He had a pocket full of parcels and was holding a concealment charm so they all ended up broken and he got mad. His magic whipped up quite a storm before he managed to get it back, but it used up far too much of his reserve."

Hipax stroked his beard thoughtfully. "He is going to have to stop using magic all together from now on, just to get through the rest of the pregnancy, and I do mean completely! He is going to have to stay in bed and rest most of the day to hold up his physical reserves, too; even doing things the Muggle way is right out."

"And if he doesn't?" Nash asked fearfully.

"At best he would deliver early, at worst… both he and the child could die."

Brian gasped, making them realise he was awake and Nash dropped to his knees to embrace him carefully, fearfully. "How do you feel?"

"Terrible!" Brian answered honestly. "How is she?"

"Oh, the baby is fine for the moment, but unfortunately, you are not," Hipax answered equally honestly. "I was just explaining to your Bonded that you need complete rest -- no magic, no physical, certainly no more carving or even getting up. If you had a house-elf, I would also say you were banned from getting up from the bed at all for the next week or so and the elf could take care of your bodily functions."

"Sorry, we don't have an elf since Dobby hopped it," Harry murmured in amusement.

Nash and Hermione exchanged long, thoughtful looks.

oo0oo


	14. And Then There Were Three Part II

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Buckets of Thank Yous:** As always, I cannot say this was a lone effort. Without the input and comments from the BeST this would not be a rounded or finished tale. Having a good beta is vitally important to completing any work and I have the BeST three in the business. Zarathustra46 has her own published work on FFNet and I suggest you go have a really good read. Nathaniel_hp runs Challenges and writes Ron/Remus perfectly, Google him, it's well worth it. The Wicked Bunjhiny doesn't write but that purple pen of hers is a killer and her grasp of punctuation leaves me stunned. (She is so damned good at it!) Thanks again, Guys.

**Author's Note:** Sorry this is a bit slow in coming, as have been the replies to your reviews. Sadly, real life gets in the way of enjoyment and a new job has been keeping me on the hop. Still, it should all settle down soon, I hope!

Regards

Les

**And Then There Were Three**

"You, the founding mother and only member of SPEW, want to know how to go about acquiring a house-elf?" Draco Malfoy asked incredulously.

"Laugh it up, Malfoy, laugh it up. If it wasn't for Brian being so ill, I would never have anything to do with this scheme, and you know it!"

Malfoy smirked and settled back, pleased to have gotten a rise out of the usually poised and unflappable woman. "Okay, what's Wardsmith done now? Tell me or I won't help you."

Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance, then huffed. "He's… and this is a deep, dark secret, and you can't tell anyone, except maybe your wife… Brian is pregnant."

Malfoy went completely still for a moment, then let out his breath silently. "Well, quite a surprising little Ward Smith he is, too. Accident?"

"The Jorensecle job. It seems it was a Potter who gave her life and magic to create the blood wards." Hermione was too distraught to notice Malfoy sit up straighter, a light going on behind his eyes as he realised what she had so inadvertently let slip. "When Brian took the wards down, there was no one to accept the magic back. So, when he was distracted, it lodged in him. The way his magic dealt with it was to create a new life. They are very happy about it, he and Nash, but it's draining the life out of Brian and then he was recently attacked by Skeeter in Diagon Alley. That tore up any reserve he had, so now he's confined to bed and needs a house-elf to take care of him or he and the child are going to die of magical exhaustion."

"Nasty. I thought Skeeter had been muzzled after our last run-in? I more or less threatened to go all Death Eater on her arse if she didn't just curl up and die. Seems the lesson has worn off a little, or has she merely switched targets?"

"She thinks Brian is Harry Potter," Hermione said in exasperation.

There was another still pause, then Malfoy threw back his head and roared laughing, a gloating note in its depths. "Bloody Potter! I knew it! I _knew_ it! That's… that is just poetic justice, that is! Magic forced him to take a life and now magic is forcing him to create a life. Perfectly, insanely justified!"

"I said Skeeter thinks…"

"Now, now Hermione, you always have been the world's worst liar. Wardsmith is Potter and now that you've triggered the idea, I wonder why I had never noticed before. Same walk, same mannerisms, same insane ability to find trouble in the most unlikely of places and ways, same huge and incredibly versatile reserve of luck and magic." Hermione blanched. "Oh, don't worry, I'm no longer madly jealous of him and his abilities, and yes, before you demand it, I promise I will keep both his secrets. So, Potty wants another house-elf. What did he do with the last one he stole off me?"

"After Harry disappeared, Dobby sort of, well, dissolved; got more and more transparent until he just disappeared one day." Hermione was still completely baffled by Dobby's demise.

"And that is precisely why house-elves are bound to people or houses. We do not keep them as slaves because we get some sort of sick kick out of owning other beings. They are bound because they are pure magic and if freed with no set purpose, then they do not survive for very long. They melt and go back to nature. So, a house-elf for Potter…"

"Rao," Hermione corrected primly. "They have taken Nash's name, not Brian's."

Malfoy made a small, insolent bow. "I stand corrected; _Rao_ needs a house-elf to do everything for him except perhaps breathe. Ironic, really, when you know what a power-house he usually is which is why not many men have the strength to get pregnant and stay that way for nine months. It just so happens that I have the very thing but…" He smiled wryly as Hermione let out a squeak of excitement. "But… it is not one house-elf, but three -- a Gran, mum and daughter team."

Hermione made a protesting noise but Malfoy held up his hand to stem her objections. "Let me give you some background on these elves before you reject my reasoning out of hand."

Sighing, Hermione settled back into her chair. "Alright, I'm listening, but it had better be good. I don't like slavery, Malfoy, hate it really and I can see no justification for it, especially when wizards are so capable of caring for themselves and don't really need any servants to do things for them!" She crossed her arms defensively as a house-elf popped in and poured tea for her, completely unasked for.

Draco smirked and shook his head. "This is probably something you have not encountered because you are a… Muggle-born and it's not really discussed, it's just a known and given fact of life so bear with me, okay?"

Hermione nodded grudgingly, knowing there were some things that no one, not even her husband thought to tell her, not from malice but simply from taking them for granted.

"About a hundred and ten years ago, my great uncle Canopulus was house-elf raised like most pure bloods then and even now. He gave the daughter of his house-elf, one Lidz, to his wife when he married and she was pregnant. Lidz raised Uncle Aries and when he married, her daughter Mimi was given to Aries's wife. Mimi raised Sagittarius until he married and her daughter Pinit was born in anticipation of Sagittarius' child; but then disaster struck. My great aunt, uncle and aunt were killed in the most ridiculous accident involving a carriage, a giant and a load of rotten autumn peaches. Don't ask, I'm not going to tell you. Suffice to say, Lidz and Mimi went back to Uncle Canopulus as the Head of Family. Sagittarius never got over his parents' death, he was always over-emotional and really, about as sane as Aunt Bella, without the nasty streak of course, and when he walked out in front of a Muggle train and commanded it to stop… Well, Pinit went back to Uncle Canopulus, too."

oo0oo

Hermione sat perched on the end of the sofa relating Draco's tale to the Raos with the air of one still stunned by the intricacies of house-elf/wizarding interactions. "And then Draco's great uncle Canpoulus died a couple of weeks ago, I think he said in early November. Since the house-elves were tied to the man rather than the house, they are masterless and have been just fading away. Lidz is about eighty years old and well versed in caring for invalids. Mimi is about fifty and is a house-elf in the most skilled sense, cooking, cleaning, shopping and maintaining a home as well as baby-raising. Pinit is about eighteen years old and has been trained as a nursery maid and is apprenticed to her mother and grandmother to learn the family skills," Hermione told her rapt audience of three.

Nash sighed. "I was house-elf raised. Zinanny was the best, the bravest and most loyal person in my young life, and I do mean a person, not just a thing as many wizards see house-elves. She saved me when my family were killed by Death Eaters and she covered it up that I killed my uncle when he was strangling me. She even lied for me to the Aurors, said she had done the deed." He coughed uncomfortably when both Hermione and Ron stared at him in surprise.

"Bet there's a long and involved story behind that little titbit of information; not something you should be saying in front of a senior Auror, humm?" Ron said blandly, then laughed aloud at the dawning horror on Nash's face. "I won't tell, cross my heart."

"Anyway!" Hermione said insistently. "These three are well trained and desperately need a new home and new purpose to stay alive. If you two are willing, Malfoy says he will conduct the transfer whenever you like or more to the point, whenever Harry is strong enough to travel."

Brian and Nash exchanged long, unspoken glances, then Nash smiled gently. "Tomorrow, maybe?"

"Probably best," Hermione agreed. "I'll call him and set it up."

oo0oo

Malfoy Manor was beautiful, sparkling in the moonlight; ice crystals made prisms scattering pale rainbows over the white marble facade as the icicles hung down from the eves. It was almost like a fairytale as they walked up the driveway, Nash carrying Brian who was bundled up in cloak, scarf, hat, and gloves with a _Wingardium Leviosa_ cast to make Nash's job easier. Malfoy had offered to send a carriage but Ron had decided to bring them in his Muggle car. Unfortunately, Muggle technology ceased to function at the gates of the Manor, no matter how invited the guests were or what spells, charms and modifications had been laid on the machinery.

Brian had giggled his arse off as Hermione berated Ron while Nash bundled him up, casting the levitating spell. The walk was not far, a couple of hundred metres but it was worth it, they decided as they climbed the front steps. The doors were flung open and a gush of warm air flowed over them as a house-elf beckoned them in.

Adriana was coming down the stairs with a welcoming smile, as their guests were unwrapped and boots transfigured into indoor slippers instinctively by the house-elves that swarmed around them. Brian found himself hovering in midair while Nash was slipped out of his cloak and carefully unwrapped by one house-elf while his partner was being unpeeled by another house-elf. Yet another elf of the almost inexhaustible supply of the little creatures caught up the discarded clothes and instantly dried them before hanging them up.

"A little overwhelming, aren't they?" Adriana laughed, as she approached. "I'm afraid Draco and I are a little too self-sufficient and they have very little to do, so when they get the chance to minister, they tend to go completely overboard. How are you all?"

Hermione shook the outstretched hand with a grin, allowing the poised young woman to guide them to a cosy parlour off the main hall where mulled wine, hot tea and canapés were laid out to warm them up. Adriana bid them all take a seat and relax as house-elves busied themselves stoking fires and plumping cushions before Adriana clapped her hands to apparate the half dozen house-elves away. Talk was inconsequential until the door was opened by yet another enthusiastic house-elf and Draco entered, still straightening his stock. Smiling, he greeted the guests and shook hands before bending to kiss his wife's cheek as he accepted a cup of tea and propped his shoulders against the fireplace.

"Welcome to our home. I'm glad Hermione persuaded you to consider the adoption of all three of great Uncle Canopulus' house-elves. I would hate to split them up as they work so well together. Have you introduced them, Adriana?"

"I thought after dinner would be best," Adriana said complacently. "I think the house-elves have gone completely over the top again but what can you do with them?"

"How did you come by so many if you have no work for them?" Hermione asked as they were ushered into a warm and pleasant dining room and sat at a small but tastefully laid dining table with sparkling glassware and snow white, starched napery.

"Malfoy Manor has been here since… well, forever, in one form or another," Draco said evenly as soup was served by no less than four house-elves. He tasted it and nodded, the house-elves hurriedly and silently serving everyone else while grinning from ear to ear.

Hermione's brow clouded at this indication of superiority but she did not comment as Draco sipped his soup before continuing.

"We have a breeding colony of house-elves and have had for centuries. Most of the elves in this part of the country can trace their ancestry back to Malfoy; a mixed blessing. It's good because they always know where they have come from. It is bad because, when their families or houses are wiped out, they go to the next in line, or the next or the next until they find a living member of their family to serve, or a standing house to inhabit. Unfortunately, because of the losses on both sides of the war, the house-elves have had to trace back their ancestry a hell of a long way and most of them have come back here as the last bastion of living servitude both household and familial."

"So what sort of numbers are we talking about?" Ron asked as a house-elf helpfully laid a napkin over his lap when his fell on the floor. A second whisked the fallen one away before he could even react to dropping it in the first place.

Draco and Adriana exchanged glances. "Just over one hundred at last count," Adriana replied with a faint grimace. "We've farmed as many off to new homes as we could but still…"

"What about orphanages and institutions?" Brian asked, blowing on his soup only to find a house-elf there before him with a cooling charm to lower the temperature.

"Hogwarts is over capacity and St Mungo's refuses any but medically trained staff. We mainly have household trained elves, outdoor workers and nursery staff. A large number of them are geriatrics, old but not past usefulness which make them unsuitable to be placed. The kitchen is so overstaffed here that territorial disputes have broken out and we have had to arbitrate that each chief chef and crew is working on set days, four chefs, one day a piece. Quite frankly, I don't know what to do with them anymore," Draco dropped his voice to a whisper so as not to upset any of the elves lined up like soldiers against the back wall.

"Pity you didn't own a hotel that you could completely staff and run with your excess house-elves," Nash opined as his bowl was whisked away and a fingerbowl offered. Washing his fingers, he delicately dried them on the proffered heated towel as if he did it every day. "This level of service is often expected in Europe and the Middle East, although they usually use young family members or children employed to serve."

Draco pursed his lips then nodded sharply. "Not bad, not bad at all. We could put a skeleton staff of humans in to make sure the elves are not taken advantage of and perhaps have a restaurant attached so that a second crew of staff could be used."

"If you owned the building, then the elves could be attached to the building rather than the Manor and perhaps create a secondary focus for the breeding colony," Brian murmured. "I have a piece of property near Buckingham palace that may be suitable for conversion into a small but high class hotel, if you're interested, Malfoy."

"It might be worth looking into, Potter. If only to relieve the pressure of being… catered to… quite so meticulously." Draco's slight grimace was speaking but only fleeting as two of the nearest elves suddenly began banging their heads on the floor. "However, I would sincerely miss the superb standard of service, no doubt about that," he added hurriedly.

"Humm, I can see your problem," Ron was moved to remark, his contempt of Malfoy's 'foppishness' dying a little as he began to understand the ramifications of living with such constant scrutiny.

The meal was superb, all seven courses, finishing with lemon sorbet, a cheese plate, brandy, port and coffee. Stuffed, Brian could hardly keep his eyes open as they adjourned to the sitting room to rejoin the ladies, Hermione and Adriana laughing about something they wouldn't reveal, once the men were seated around the room.

"Now, house-elf adoptions need to be sealed with blood and magic, which is part of the problem. Once you have a house-elf, you are stuck with them until one of you dies," Draco explained to the two men. "After the adoption you can seal the elves to the house rather than the family, whichever way you want to do it but the first swearing of fealty needs to be sealed in blood and magic. Are you ready? Let us proceed, then."

He opened the door and beckoned them to follow as he led the way down to the dungeons under the house. Ron drew his wand, as did Hermione while Nash carried Brian in his arms, much to the smaller man's disgust. Draco stopped politely at the end of the passage; Nash turned right and pushed into the second door on the left; the others, including Draco, followed him. The room was bare stone, lit by torches in the sconces high on the wall, stone benches underneath them. Settling Brian on one bench, Nash turned to Draco who motioned him to bring the bowl and brazier from the storage cupboard in the shadows at the back of the room. Between them, they prepared the equipment, then Draco clicked his fingers and asked the house-elf that appeared to bring Lidz, Mimi and Pinit down to the ceremony room.

The three elves appeared completely naked, not even the traditional rag wrapped around them. It was obvious in the shape of their ears and chins that they were closely related as they seemed to huddle together apprehensively before their nominal master. Draco smiled down at them before beckoning Brian to join Nash and himself in the circle of light in the centre of the room. Hermione helped Brian to his feet and offered an arm until reaching the edge of the circle when she withdrew to watch the ceremony with keen interest.

"We are gathered here today to create a binding of Fealty between these two men and these three house-elves so that each may serve the other in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or for worse until death breaks the bond. Step forward Brian Harry James Potter Wardsmith-Rao. Do you swear to house and protect, feed and nurture the three house-elves the House of Malfoy seeks to gift you with this night?"

Blinking, Brian nodded. "I do."

"Will you offer blood and magic to seal this bargain?"

"I will."

"Transfigure your wand into a blade and present the Pledge Bowl with three drops of your blood to seal the bargain," Draco instructed.

Brian shivered as the forces began to gather, his depleted magic only just managing the transfiguration, the blade barely sharp enough to pierce the skin of his thumb. The rich red blood dripped into the empty beaten silver bowl before Nash reached forward and sealed the nick with a silent spell.

"Thank you. Step forward Sarasvat Narsimha Wardsmith-Rao. Do you swear to house and protect, feed and nurture the three house-elves the House of Malfoy seeks to gift you with this night?"

"I do."

"Will you offer blood and magic to seal this bargain?"

"I will."

"Transfigure your wand into a blade and present the Pledge Bowl with three drops of your blood to seal the bargain," Draco instructed.

Nash had no difficulty with the transfiguration or making the cut in his finger to add his blood to Brian's. As he stepped back, Draco called the three house-elves forward into the circle, tapping the eldest house-elf on the head with his wand.

"Do you, Lidz, house-elf of Malfoy, swear on your blood and magic to serve the House of Rao faithfully and well, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, protect and nurture, taking their lives as yours, promoting their causes as yours and protecting their off-spring as your own, until dissolution claims you?"

"Yes, Master Draco," the old elf said firmly with downcast eyes.

"Give me your hand, Lidz," Malfoy asked gently and carefully pressed the palm of the old elf's hand to the side of the Pledge bowl. It sliced into the green flesh, drawing the oddly greenish red goo the house-elves had for blood, allowing a thin string to join the human blood in the bowl. The wizard instantly healed the cut before calling Mimi to him and then Pinit, repeating the words and actions until the mess in the bowl swirled sluggishly.

Bending over the brazier, Draco lit it with a silent _incendio_, using his wand to stir the brew, adding water and oils as the ancient ceremony called for them. The resultant potion turned to a soft orange-gold, the smell going from animal to fruity almost before he doused the fire and picked up the magically cool bowl. With great ceremony, he offered it to Brian who took the bowl and a single sip before he in turn offered it to Nash. Nash took his sip and offered the bowl to Lidz who gulped and shivered before offering it to Mimi who gulped and offered the last mouthful to Pinit. She gulped the last remnant of the potion and handed the bowl back to Draco who placed it upside down on the brazier and set the fire alight once again.

The flames leaped up into the bowl and burned it clean, leaving the surface polished brightly and completely free of any remnant that might be used against the ceremony's participants in the future. Nash reached into his pocket and drew out the three neatly ironed white pillowcases, each embroidered along the edges with flowers and a couple of birds. According to the ritual, he handed one each to the three elves who each bowed and took them, slipping them over their heads and fastening them in place with their own magic. Pinit, the youngest, tentatively caressed the pretty edging and smiled up at the new masters with slowly dawning happiness.

Hermione was about to move when the three elves clutched their stomachs and collapsed, keening in pain as the potion burned into their systems. Brian looked shocked as he slumped to his knees and caught the nearest elf, holding her carefully even as Nash caught up the other two. Both young men glared at Draco who shrugged fatalistically.

"The potion removes the old loyalty and replaces it with the new blood and bindings. It is a painful process, but it will not kill them." He snapped his fingers and half a dozen house-elves appeared, twittering and exclaiming, gathered the three newly bonded elves up and all popped off. Draco sighed and quenched the fire with a non-verbal spell, _Banishing_ the equipment back to the cupboards ready for next time. "So, shall we retire to the sitting room and have a cup of tea before you have to go home?"

"But… But what about the elves?" Hermione asked as they were ushered out.

"Oh, the others will admire their pillowcases and feed them a farewell meal before they pop off to the Rao house and get settled in. They should be well established by the morning and take up their duties. Just tell them what you want them to do and they will run around and drive you insane instead of us, thank Merlin!"

oo0oo

Christmas morning. There was something intrinsically special about the light and the atmosphere as the pale winter sun tried to lighten the heavy grey clouds. Graduations of colour appeared so subtly that they made pearls look gaudy which heightened the air of mystery and wonder as Brian slowly woke to the smell of hot tea and crumpets dripping with honey and butter. Mimi had discovered he really, really enjoyed them and made sure he had them on his breakfast tray every morning along with a pot of Irish breakfast, sugar and milk. There was also the obligatory porridge sprinkled with brown sugar and fresh cream as well as bacon and eggs with fried tomatoes and mushrooms.

Brian drew a deep breath and smiled as he slowly worked his way up until he was sitting erect. Pillows immediately appeared at his back to support him along with the most disconcerting feeling of bodily functions bypassed so that he no longer required the loo. It had been that way every morning for the last week, ever since the elves moved in. Lidz had cared for a complete invalid for many years and exercised every particle of her skill in making sure Brian barely had to lift a finger to help himself. Mimi cooked and cleaned, the house utterly sparkling, the food perfectly made and presented at every meal. Pinit helped her mother but was very careful to remind Brian that her main skill was in baby care and she would help him care for the little one after she was born.

Glancing at the bottom of the bed, Brian's smile widened when he saw the mound of gaily wrapped presents waiting for him. He was a bit upset that he had not managed to get a perfect present for Nash but he had asked Hermione to research the title of the land that surrounded Laburnum Cottage and if she could, to purchase it for Nash. He reasoned that half of Nash's gardens had been overtaken by his workshop and once the baby was old enough to run around, she would need some safely warded acreage to play in. Hermione, clever witch that she was, had turned up the title, bought the land and commissioned the building of two huge greenhouses as well as the materials to construct any sort of bedding and potting sheds Nash wanted. He hoped Nash would like his gift.

He was just wondering how he was going to open his gifts when Nash himself came into the bedroom and bent to kiss him lingeringly. The tray vanished from Brian's lap as Nash's weight tilted the mattress a little and his hand made welcome forays under the blankets, caressing Brian's hip suggestively.

"Happy Christmas," he murmured into Brian's parted lips, dabbing a quick teasing kiss on his nose as well as his chin and cheek.

Growling slightly, Brian grabbed Nash's ears in both hands and held his head still as he stole his own, much more satisfying kiss which made his partner collapse at the knees and sprawl on the duvet beside him. "Very happy Christmas to you, too, love."

"You want to open presents or fool around?" Nash whispered into his ear, the caress of his breath sending delightful shivers down Brian's spine.

"Oh… tough choice," Brian whined, nuzzling into his neck as he allowed his hands to roam over Nash's smooth, golden chest.

"Keep that up and the choice will be removed from your hands," Nash warned, his breathing speeding up.

Brian smiled slyly into his neck and pinched a nipple hard enough to make Nash squeak and jump. "Presents, I think," he said brightly, giggling like a drain as Nash retaliated with tickling fingers, teasing licks and loving kisses.

Some time later they cuddled amid a wreckage of coloured paper and rumpled blankets, Brian holding up his hand to admire the ring Nash had given him. It was packed with protections, shield charms and strengthening spells to keep him safe from any harm. The emeralds inlaid in the band would sweat in the presence of poison and the ruby centre stone would pulse in time to his heartbeat if he felt faint, broadcasting his vital signs straight to Hipax if there was a problem. It was a beautiful, thoughtful gift and Brian loved it.

Nash was studying the deeds to the new land and the specifications on the greenhouses, already planning on what to plant and when. The clock, after being duly admired, had been hung in pride of place in the sitting room by a giggling, bouncing Mimi. They had bought all three house-elves Christmas gifts; sparkling bead necklaces in many colours for Lidz, a music box with a ballerina that danced on the lid for Mimi, and for Pinit a box full of coloured eyeshadows, rouges and lipsticks. The house-elves were delighted and kept trying to thank them even when they were in the bath, which was somewhat disconcerting.

"You know, once you get your gardens started, you might want to see Malfoy about a garden elf, too," Brian mused as he admired his Bonded's profile studying the ground plans.

"Have you added mind reading to your list of talents?" Nash teased, turning his head to drop a kiss on Brian's brow. "I was just thinking exactly the same thing. I'll bet Draco has a couple of gardener elves going to waste in that menagerie he calls home at the moment. Are you going to go into business with him in this hotel thing?"

"Yes, I think so. It will be a good business, make packets of cash and will help the house-elves so even Hermione won't be able to bleat exploitation at me. She was so funny at school…"

They spent the rest of the morning in bed quietly, even eating the lunch that Mimi prepared so lovingly there. They were due at the Weasleys' for dinner and Nash decreed that Brian had to husband his strength to last the event. If Brian grew too tired, a click of the fingers would call Lidz to tend him or to take him home, depending on how tired he was. It had taken a lot of arguing with Hipax for him to allow Brian this much freedom and the young men were not about to abuse his trust over trivialities.

The meal was fantastic as always, Molly having prepared enough food for twice the number as usual. Brian came in for some teasing due to his invalidish condition but he was adept at giving as much cheek as he received. When Molly thought the twins were going a little too hard, she whacked both of their backsides with the wooden spoon which made them jump and yelp, causing everyone else to laugh at their hurt looks and ostentatious rubbing of the offended areas. Gifts were exchanged, geese demolished and plum puddings savoured by the gathering, gossip and teasing, laughter and singing, the whole evening alive with warmth and love. It was the perfect ending to the special day, the windless drift of fluffy snowflakes adding a fairytale end to the perfect night.

Boxing Day was quiet but the following day Lila arrived to give Brian his check-up. Hipax had come on Christmas Eve and discovered Brian was developing a vagina, much to his shock and embarrassment and Hipax's delight. The organ had decided to develop between Brian's navel and the base of his cock without any prior notice or warning.

"The perfect place, really," Hipax had informed him gleefully. "After all, in the traditional area a male has the muscles that give him his erectile function as well as a prostate gland and bladder. However, between navel and penis there are no major organs except the bladder but it can move aside quite readily. Again, the added advantage is that your pelvis is no longer a factor in the equation and it lessens the chance of the child crushing her skull or breaking your hips in the birth process. On the other hand, it does mean a spontaneous abortion if the weight is too great for the muscle to handle. But, since you are already on bed restriction that should not be a factor and if you do decide to go on outings, I know I can trust you to take great care of yourself."

"So the easing of restrictions over Christmas is a test, is it?" Brian speculated shrewdly.

"Indeed," Hipax chuckled agreeably.

Lila arrived right on time and was ushered into the modified sitting room where Brian lay in state, propped up on cushions and covered with an afghan, the sofa surrounded by drawing pads, pencils and books. A chess set on a games table nearby showed a half finished game and a pack of cards were discarded on the floor. Brian looked up and grinned as the woman flopped into the chair opposite him, Lidz hurrying to provide her with tea and a footstool.

"How was your Christmas?" Lila asked, gratefully accepting the hot cup. The weather was no longer picturesque but bloody freezing outside.

"Good, very good, and definitely not strenuous," Brian assured her, willing to continue the small talk rather than commence the examination.

Lila grinned, knowing his strategy. "Where's that delicious Bonded of yours? He's usually so close to my elbow, I keep knocking into his nose during these examinations."

"True. But you will be pleased to know he has gone off to Malfoy Manor to see if he can get a garden elf for his new enterprise. He has decided to grow exotic plants for the potions market and I think he is going to be experimenting with them in new potions uses. He always enjoys experimenting rather than just hack selling and now we have the money he can indulge his passions."

"Lucky, you two; sounds like you are both very happy. So, shall we get the embarrassing bit out of the way and then you can tell me what you got for Christmas and show me your baby designs," she stated matter-of-factly as she opened her bag and drew out a drape.

oo0oo

Draco Malfoy had always been Slytherin. Even as a child he had exhibited the traits the House was famous for. So why was it, he thought to himself, that staring at this piece of parchment made him want to rant and rave like a bloody Gryffindor! The letter itself was innocuous, a request for an interview regarding a house-elf, nothing out of the ordinary, considering how many house-elves he had spare at the moment. No, the content was unexceptional, but the fist that penned it… Ah, that was a different story all together!

_Dear Lord Malfoy,_

_I find myself in need of the services of an experienced house-elf, well trained in matters of the garden and greenhouse. If it is convenient, I would like to make an appointment with you to discuss the matter in the near future._

_Yours sincerely_

_S N Rao_

Nothing exceptional, nothing extraordinary, except the formation of the capital 'S' and the capital 'M'; the spiked tails on the lower letters and the flowing curve that crossed the double 't'. He knew that writing, almost as well as he knew his own. A few other things suddenly leaped to his mind, things he had subconsciously ignored or had not even registered as seeing, and then he knew he had to have an answer. After studying and speculating for a full fruitless hour, Draco drew forward a pristine sheet of parchment and wrote back asking Nash to call at 2:00 pm the following day.

He smiled graciously as Nash used the provided Portkey to arrive in the Arrival room, Draco holding out a hand in welcome as he took the tall, dark skinned man into the study where he usually conducted business. Using the time to study his guest, Draco poured coffee and offered shortbread with a self deprecating laugh about his wife having him well trained.

"So, an Herbology inclined house-elf? May I inquire as to why?"

Nash smiled an open friendly grin. "Brian bought me some land for Christmas and installed two huge greenhouses for me. He was so proud of his idea I didn't have the heart to tell him how much work it took to start up a brand new garden enterprise. Instead, I thought, if I had a house-elf to give me a hand, it wouldn't be so bad, do you see?"

"Potter never had a really firm grasp on magic, its advantages and disadvantages."

"I know. He sort of expects that something will happen and it does, just because he believes in it," Nash chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. "Sometimes he's like a child with exceptionally over-powered wish craft, but it seems to work for him."

"Ah. So you do know he is Harry Potter, saviour or the wizarding world, then?"

Nash smiled wryly. "I know, but he doesn't wish for me to call him Harry; only Brian."

"It doesn't worry you?"

"Why should it?" Nash frowned, realising the questions were just a little too pointed and probing. "Does it worry you?"

"No, but then I do not have the concentrated, two generations worth of stored bile and venom that you do, Severus."

Nash blinked, then cocked his head slightly with a smile. "No, my name is pronounced Sarasvat, not Severus."

"Oh, can it, Uncle Sev. I know it's you; I don't know how it's you but I do recognise you by your handwriting. When you came here to perform the Binding Ceremony, you knew exactly where everything was; the room, the equipment, even the hidden cupboard where Blood magic artefacts were kept by my father. You are Severus Snape! I dare you to deny it!" Draco had his wand out and pointed only to find Sarasvat's wand pointed at his favourite nose.

"I am _not_ Severus Snape!" The man snarled bitterly. "Oh, I was years ago, but not now. I have no connection to Severus Snape who was killed by a snake, if you remember."

Draco grinned like the Cheshire Cat and settled back into his chair with a self-congratulatory air. "I knew it! I just knew it! Oh, well done, Uncle Sev, very well done indeed!"

Nash rolled his eyes in a highly familiar fashion.

"Does Harry know who you are?" Draco asked suddenly, glancing up to pin his uncle with bright grey eyes.

"No. He knows nothing. I have more or less forced myself to forget I was ever anyone but Sarasvat Narsimha Rao. I deliberately destroyed all thoughts, memories and actions connected to Severus. Once Nagini killed Severus, I wanted him to remain dead forever; no miraculous returns from the grave, do you understand? None!"

"But how did you do it? I won't ask why because that is self-explanatory. I know you're a potions genius but even you couldn't have… You created a de-aging solution that worked! You incredibly brilliant man! My god, Uncle Sev, do you have any idea how much such a potion would be worth to the Beauty industry? You could clean up! Make the Potter fortune look like pin-money!"

"I know," Nash said matter-of-factly. "Break out the good stuff, none of your cheap Ogden's and I'll tell you a tale of potions and ghosts and house-elves."

Grinning like a little boy offered a treat; Draco opened the cabinet and brought out the forty-year-old port and two fine crystal pipes. Pouring with a generous hand, he settled before the fire and waited eagerly as Nash smelled and sipped his port before giving it the nod of approval, pure Snape at his best Draco thought with a warm glow in his stomach as he settled down to listen intently.

oo0oo


	15. And Then There Were Three Part III

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Buckets of Thank Yous:** As always, I cannot say this was a lone effort. Without the input and comments from the BeST this would not be a rounded or finished tale. Having a good beta is vitally important to completing any work and I have the BeST three in the business. Zarathustra46 has her own published work on FFNet and I suggest you go have a really good read. Nathaniel_hp runs Challenges and writes Ron/Remus perfectly, Google him, it's well worth it. The Wicked Bunjhiny doesn't write but that purple pen of hers is a killer and her grasp of punctuation leaves me stunned. (She is so damned good at it!) Thanks again, Guys.

**Author's Note:** Sorry this is a bit slow in coming, as have been the replies to your reviews. Sadly, real life gets in the way of enjoyment and a new job has been keeping me on the hop. Still, it should all settle down soon, I hope!

Regards

Les

**And Then There Were Three**

(The Snape Story)

Severus Snape looked down at Nagini wrapped around a simulacrum of himself. He wasn't sure whose body he had snatched and transfigured to look like himself, he didn't bloody well care. The potions and spells he had invented to keep the body in the semblance he wanted had taken six months of hard research but was well worth it! The wounds on his face stung but the venom had been neutralised as soon as it touched him, thanks to the bath lotion he always covered himself in every morning, evening and, if he had time, before attending a meeting. The lotion literally changed the poison into a harmless gel at the slightest touch and even the act of sinking her fangs through his skin had turned all of Nagini's poison into harmless gloop. Since the big snake had needed her poison to live, it also killed her almost instantly.

The day Dumbledore had died was the day Severus realised that, no matter what evidence was tendered in his defence; the wizarding world would make sure he paid dearly for killing their idol. With that cold hard fact in mind, the Potions Master had begun to plan and scheme in good Slytherin fashion. No one went very far without money and resources so he had all his family holdings transferred out of his Gringotts vault and converted into Muggle gold. Gold was anonymous and disposable so the transactions would not be traced. The gold was transferred to an account in Zurich, Switzerland in an anonymous, numbered safe deposit box. What little land remained to the Snape and Prince names had to be abandoned because, unlike money or small items, it was immovable and therefore any sale would be traceable. Besides, the small amount of land and the tumbled down house on it were not worth a bent sickle. The hexes and curses alone on the land were enough to send anyone who tried to live there, fleeing for their lives. Too, it would keep the Ministry from looking very hard for him at the beginning. Let the Ministry have the dubious privilege of confiscating the property and be damned to them. It would keep their minds off of him.

Next he had to create a new backstory for himself; a background he could slip into with a paper trail to make him legitimate. That was probably the second hardest part of the plan to pull off. He could leave the country for a time, of course, probably for Europe but that was a little trite for his tastes. Such an obvious ploy would soon be ferreted out by the Ministry goons, who were, despite propaganda to the contrary, not as stupid as they looked. It was an overheard conversation between two Muggle-borns that had given him the first clue how to go about it. _Identity theft_, what a lovely phrase!

All his research had to be done surreptitiously while he was headmaster of Hogwarts, a position he had never wanted and greatly feared. Only Albus' portrait kept him sane enough to accomplish everything he had to under the noses of the Carrows, without tipping his hand to anyone at all. It was hard to be so thoroughly hated, even by those who had quite liked him originally, but it did underline just how important his disappearance was and how flawless it had to be.

Getting into the registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages at the Ministry was all too easy as the Dark Lord had taken control of the Ministry and Lucius was in charge. The lazy bastard didn't give a stuff about what was going on under his nose as long as the Dark Lord never called him on it. Severus spent some time tracing his family, following the line of the Princes and finding an interesting offshoot marriage eight generations removed. The Princes and the Patil families diverged and never crossed paths again which meant that those annoying Patil twins were distantly related to him! The line of research looked promising but then he sighed and _Incendio-ed_ his notes. It was too pat and if he could look it up, so could someone else.

After a great deal of thought, Severus decided that he had to be completely random in his choice. Any logic he used would be traceable, even with the twisted shadow of the real thing wizards thought to be logic. If there was any connection between himself and his new identity, then someone would be able to hunt it out; but if he… Pulling out his wand, he grabbed the bunch of records, tossed them high over his head and closed his eyes as they fluttered down. Turning around three times while kicking the paperwork wildly into the air again, he took two steps left, then one step straight ahead. Turning around once more with a flurry of robes, he bent suddenly and stabbed his wand down into the scatter of papers to the right of him.

The new identity was a bit of a problem being that the lad was only eighteen years old. He resided in London and was home-schooled by his uncle, his parents being deceased. His uncle, Robert Whicken, was the director of a small smithy held in trust for his nephew. The boy, a foreign national, had been naturalised when he was placed in his uncle's care at the age of nine after his parents had been killed by Death Eaters. For the past nine years, the boy had been secluded in his uncle's home because the boy refused to come out. Shock or some such thing was reported by the private Medi-wizard the uncle employed to take care of him.

After copying out the paperwork, Severus waved his wand and muttered a file spell bewitching the snowstorm of parchment to shuffle itself into drawers which shut with a decided snap. Striding out to the main hall of the Ministry, Severus turned and headed up to Lucius' office and spent a couple of hours drinking Firewhiskey and listening to Lucius bewail his lot in life and the fact he had to work on a Sunday of all days!. By three o'clock on a Sunday afternoon, Severus was pleasantly pissed and in possession of his new identity. All he had to do was figure out how to slip into it.

oo0oo

Potions were Severus' life. No matter whose identity he appropriated, he would always have to be involved in potions, and that was a problem. He was the youngest Potions Master in England and that was an honour he was going to have to give up. It was a horrible blow and nearly put him off his plan totally but then, a couple of sessions with the Dark Lord and the Cruciatus Curse, a close brush with death at the hands of a complete stranger and a sobering talk with Albus' portrait, made him see that it was not all bad. He could still be a Potions Master if he resat the tests in his new identity but he would have the enormous advantage of already having a huge base of experience behind him. Extrapolating further, he decided he didn't even have to be a Potions Master, an Honorarium was good enough for a while and he could still brew and research to his heart's delight, even more so if he wasn't always being called on to give an opinion on a mystery potion or brew something tricky for St Mungo's or the Dark Lord.

The trouble was, the boy he wanted to become was only eighteen and de-aging potions were tricky at best, useless at worst, and had some unpleasant side affects. Even the best of beauty salons shunned them and that was saying something given that their ego-inflated customers wanted to look sixteen forever. Locked in his dungeon, Severus began to do what he did best, research and experimentation. He experimented on both Muggles and Magicals, _Obliviating_ them before letting them go. If his experimental potion worked and they really did de-age, he had just the thing; the _Life Robber_ spell which, when applied judiciously, counteracted any de-aging he managed. It took him almost a year to perfect the de-aging potion and eliminate the nasty side-effects.

At the same time, he stalked his chosen identity, studying the boy's family, learning about his life and who the boy was. What he learned was not very much or very prepossessing. '_The boy', _as everyone referred to him_,_ was a complete moron with all the brains of a jelly slug, according to the current gossip in smithing circles. In fact, he made Crabbe and Goyle look like genii in comparison, if the manager's wife of the Whicken Smithy was to be believed. The boy's uncle kept him hidden away because 'the boy' had lots of money and no idea that he was rich, which left the uncle to garner a handsome income and comfortable lifestyle. Some distant relatives lived in the North of England but they barely knew the boy existed and seemed to care even less. The boy's only other contact was a great uncle and aunt who lived in India of all places. They wrote letters regularly and received letters in reply, carefully crafted by the uncle, but had never met their great nephew in person. Most of what Severus knew came via gossip, intercepted letters, inference, and from public record, of which there was very little.

When he questioned the serendipity of picking such an ideal choice from a random pile of papers, Albus' portrait had merely smiled, that damned twinkle almost blinding him. "It's magic, my dear boy, magic! I have a more important point for you to ponder, my boy. What are you going to do about your memories?"

"What? What are you rabbiting on about now, Headmaster?" Severus asked in exasperation.

"My dear Severus, yours has not been a happy life. You are contemplating starting a whole new one but you still have all the baggage, snares and fears of the old one clinging to your robes. I would strongly advise you to discard as many of the dark memories as you can. Make a genuinely fresh start to your new life."

Severus harrumphed and turned away but the headmaster's words had haunted him. If - and only if - he was going to discard memories, then what _would_ he toss out? It was a big question. He would have to keep his knowledge of potions and Defence, of course, also of Dark Magic and all of the ability to disguise himself. And his research skills and… He snorted and reminded himself that he would have to get a whole set of NEWTs registered in his new name. He could discard memories of the Marauders, for sure, and of years and years of teaching bloody dunderheads how to destroy potions. He would definitely discard all recollection of being a Death Eater but keep his recollections of Albus and Minerva, his two favourite people. He thought of the Malfoys and decided to discard memory of Lucius and his poisonous wit while keeping something of Narcissa and Draco.

Having made the decision, he set up a bolt hole in a random cave deep in the Scottish Highlands where he could go into hiding as soon as he was legitimately able. He stocked the cave with his research tools, his de-aging potion, medical supplies, a Pensieve to hold his discarded memories and all the paperwork required to enter the new life. He also accumulated a hoard of groceries and a good supply of Polyjuice potion as he would need a few weeks to integrate with his chosen new life. He planned to slide into his new identity with the least possible ripples.

The Polyjuice came in very handy when he slipped over to the Continent and picked up a new wand in the disguise of a random Muggle he managed to remove a hank of hair from. He had no idea who the person was but it made travelling easier. The Continental wand makers didn't bother to ask for names or identification, or at least the ones he went to didn't so when he used his only hair from Rao to turn himself into the boy, they were none the wiser. He returned to Hogwarts with a brand new wand of beech and Demiguise hair, which made the bloody thing hard to find occasionally. It was so different from his own wand that no one would connect the two and it worked rather well for him when he tried it.

oo0oo

The final battle was over. Severus had done his part and given Mr Potter his testimonial memories before he 'died'. That had been tricky as the timing had to be perfect. Anxiously, it had turned out to be a rather close-cut thing. As soon as the facsimile of his old body was in place beneath Nagini, he used the fangs to gouge its neck, arranged the snake carefully, artistically, and dabbed his own blood on fang and neck wounds. When at last all was in place, he glanced down at his right hand and sighed deeply, caressing the length of ebony and dragon heart strings that had served him well and faithfully for thirty odd years. It was like destroying a fundamental part of himself but it had to be done to remove all temptation! With a brisk, decisive movement, he snapped the wand over his knee and gulped as the inherent magic was freed. His wand had to be found with his body as no living wizard would abandon his wand and few dead wizards would be without a wand at hand under ordinary circumstances. Finally, he apparated to his hidey-hole in the Scottish highlands, abandoning his old wand and his old life.

It was not as easy as it sounded, but for the first time in years, he was completely free. Sitting in the only chair in the cave he stared at nothing, stared at the wall uncomprehendingly, staring at the empty skin where the Dark Mark had ruled his life for so long. There was no longer a black design; rather, the skin was puckered and marked by scars. It was so hard to wrap his mind around the fact that he was finally free of all masters; a masterless man with no more rules, no subterfuge, no responsibilities, nothing but what he chose and made of his life. It was… mind boggling. He blinked when the first splash hit the oddly sensitive skin of his forearm, warm but quickly cooling. Was it raining? Was there a leak in the roof?

Then it dawned on him. He was crying! Why? More to the point, how?

The tears ran freely down his face and he allowed them, free to indulge with no one to tell him not to, no one to laugh or mock or sympathise, just the perfect freedom to express his emotions in any way he wanted to, even the hysterical laughter that broke through the tears until he was gasping for breath and completely drained. He had done it! He had escaped all the madness! He was well and truly FREE!

The cave was cold but soon warmed as he set about changing into the non-descript robes he had purchased and then destroyed his old, distinctive ones. The next phase of his disguise was the hardest part, deciding between immediately de-aging himself or discarding his old memories. He decided the memories had to go first while he was still in full possession of his current attitude and outlook on life. He used the huge Pensieve Albus had guided him to at Hogwarts, usually kept for use by the staff, and that he had unashamedly stolen for his own use. Pulling out a strand of memory, he stored it in the large stone bowl while he reviewed and decided whether to keep, store or discard it forever. Some memories seemed easy to discard; he wanted to be well rid of the Marauders… but they were such an integral part of his school life that he could not remove all trace without damaging other, more useful or precious memories.

Memories of his childhood were discarded ruthlessly, his father and mother had only left bad impressions on him and he wanted little to do with that mean and violent existence. He kept his memories of Lily as they were sweet and far removed from most of his other childhood memories. Memories, such as these, caused him no conflict. He wanted to abandon all parts of his time as a Death Eater but that was not possible either, as he would lose a great deal of his Defence and Dark Magic skills which were rather intimately tied to the death and destruction of those years. It took more than a week of sorting through the tortuous mass of his mind and removing incriminating memories completely without damaging anything around them. Thank Merlin he was such a skilled Legilimencer and his mind was strictly ordered. It made removal of the strands and smoothing over the gaps a lot easier than it would have been with a disordered mind.

Finally, he was happy with his work, the worst of his offences destroyed forever and the rest of his less than savoury memories stockpiled in shrunken vials in case he ever needed to retrieve them. What remained behind was rather pleasant; a skilled, rather well-rounded adult who was intelligent and cunning, and ready to move in on his target, even if he thought so himself.

oo0oo

The candle flames stilled, then flickered again as a disillusionment charm was dropped. Severus looked down on the thin, careworn face of the boy whose life he was going to poach and shook his head. Severus had wondered if he could kill the young man now that half his memories and skills had been discarded, but the youth was already a corpse. Someone, probably the uncle had already killed him, although the 'how' was not immediately apparent. Disposing a corpse was very simple. However, it did make the rest of the things to be accomplished that bit easier. He carefully pulled out a hank of hair from the back of the boy's head, taking it skin, roots and all. The boy's hair was long and as black as pitch, shiny and healthy, unlike Severus' thin locks. Again, choosing an unobtrusive place underneath the boy's thick hair, Severus took a blood sample which proved to be somewhat difficult to procure and dropped it into a small crystal vial that disappeared into his robes as quickly as the hair sample.

Pulling back the carefully arranged blankets, he scanned for scars, marks or tattoos that might be used to identify the boy. Using his wand, he took a full body, three dimensional picture of the corpse, levitating it to take an image of the back as well as the front. Taking great care, he rolled back the lips and studied the teeth, which were white and straight, of course. Rolled back eyelids revealed eyes as brown as good dark chocolate. Stepping back to study the young man, Severus was pleased with how he would look, given a few pounds and some muscle. Very nice. While the corpse was airborne, he took a nail sample from a toe, again making sure the removal was unobtrusive.

Rearranging the bed to look undisturbed, he checked the stasis field and tutted. It was already breaking down, allowing the body to corrupt. Sighing deeply and using rather Dark magic, he rebuilt the field around the boy to preserve him better. He then cased the room, casting copy spells on a journal he found, and noted the books the boy had read and where his interests lay. He had hoped to pull all that information from the target's mind but dead men tell no tales nor give any detailed information, unfortunately. Opening drawers and wardrobes he memorised the contents of each, making note of anything he deemed useful to know, including the fact that there was a stuffed dragon tucked away in one of the corners of the bedside cupboard. Humm, he wondered if Legilimency worked on house-elves as the elf, Ziny, would be the best source of all the tiny details he would need to know if he was to successfully pull off the switch.

About to close the cupboard door on the dragon, he suddenly spotted a bundle of parchment tucked right in the back and carefully unearthed it. Letters, scrolls and bundled up notebooks were tied together with a red ribbon, each carefully preserved, each addressed to Sarasvat Narsimha Rao Junior, from Sarasvat Narsimha Rao Senior. Each notebook held rough drafts of the letters he had obviously sent off to gain the replies that were attached to them. These were indeed true gold! Although there was a weak _notice-me-not_ spell on the bundle, a _reveal _showed that was the sole protection they had. For a moment, Severus almost took the notebooks and turned to leave, but then he cast a duplication spell on them. His motto for this visit was 'leave no trace!'

After a final quick look around the room to make sure all was pristine, he re-cast his Disillusionment spell and eased out the door. Checking the hallway and stairs, he made his way over to the front door and carefully surveyed the wards that protected the house. They were nothing special, just a matter of tweaking them to allow him free entry and exit without disturbance. Why people relied on old and clumsily cast wards for their security had always baffled him. If a home owner was going to protect the place, they had to protect the exits as well as the entries, inside as well as outside. Shaking his head, he eased out the front door and apparated back to his cave in Scotland.

oo0oo

Arriving safely, Severus put up his wards which were impenetrable from any side and sat down at the desk by the far wall. Retrieving the samples, he lined them up on the scarred surface and tapped his nose with his finger thoughtfully. He had planned on a month to learn all about the boy before he taking his place but now he dared not take more than a week or the window of opportunity he had been handed would be closed in his face. Pulling out the image of the boy from his wand, he set it turning slowly next to the mirror. The bottle of De-Aging potion came to his Summons as did the Doppelganger Potion and the Adoption Potion he had brewed.

With careful hands, he divided the hair, blood and nail samples in half and added the first half to the Doppelganger Potion as it would have to sit for two days before it was drinkable. He measured out one and a third fluid ounces of De-Aging Potion and took it over to the bed in the corner. Placing silencing charms and a babycot spell on the bed to stop him rolling off while unconscious, he lay down, swigged the portion of potion and waited to see what would happen.

Nothing! It was a grave disappointment. Scanning his body, he merely felt the usual aches in his bones, the jabbing pain where his knee had been destroyed by the Dark Lord, then rebuilt by Poppy, a low-grade headache was centred on his eyes and forehead, and a dull throb of his ribcage where Nott had stove in his ribs with a careless boot were all present and accounted for. Shoulder, elbow and wrist aches from hauling and stirring cauldrons for so many years added their usual voices to the symphony of middle-aged, low-grade misery that he called his badly used body. Sighing, he cancelled the silencing and protection spells on the bed and rubbed his stomach when it protested his hunger. That was unusual, as he rarely felt hunger these days. Shrugging, he made himself a sandwich and went back to the desk to review his notes and find out what had gone wrong.

Glancing up, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and stopped, arrested by the image. He looked ten years younger, _really _ten years younger, the crows feet at the sides of his eyes had faded to mere suggestions. The trademark grooves at the sides of his mouth were not so deep nor sour any more. It _had _worked! Gleefully, Snape leaned in and studied the changes, noting that the scar in his eyebrow had not faded much and his nose was still as bent and broken as ever.

Measuring out the next dose, he returned to his bed and waited impatiently to see what would happen next. Again it was disappointing almost, the relaxation he gained from the release of aches was nowhere near as spectacular as he had expected. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was because he was dropping his age in increments and he should not expect to get much smaller as his target age was more or less fully grown; no bone shrinkage, merely the rebuilding of an age-damaged skeleton and internal structures. The third and final dose would take him to his target age and he weighed it up against the Doppelganger Potion. Perhaps he would wait and do some reading while the potion matured, then he could use it to make himself look exactly like the target before he aged himself down the last few years. It made sense and he settled himself down to do some heavy reading with a bowl of fruit and a large pot of tea to keep him company. Every hint and scrap of information he was likely to get regarding the boy was contained in the letters and journals he had copied. Now he had to assimilate the information and make sure he drew all the right conclusions from it, although he would not have a clue what the 'right conclusions' were. A very pretty logic puzzle indeed!

Two days and an overload of information later, Severus looked deeply into the mirror and said a final goodbye to Severus Snape. Once the Doppelganger Potion was consumed he would be Sarasvat Narsimha Rao in every aspect… or so he hoped. Removing his clothing, he studied his pale body, comparing it to the image of the boy and shook his head. He had many scars and nicks in his hide, more than anyone had a right to bear and most of the really bad scars were not fading away. The marks of his father's belt had been placed there when he was only ten so they were probably going to have to be removed manually, as were the marks of his misspent youth, the knife scar over his ribs, the burn marks on his forearms and worst of all the ugly patch of disfigurement on his left forearm.

The Dark Mark was gone, faded away like snow in the sun when Potter finally destroyed the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, a rim of scars, puckers, discolouration and burns still marked where the Mark had been. They had not faded much and were still quite visible. Sighing deeply, Severus took the Doppelganger Potion to his bed and gulped it down. Then he gasped, gulped and groaned as the potion began to fundamentally change every part of him. A small portion of his mind stood back and jeered as he writhed and bucked, telling him it was not as bad as a session of the Cruciatus Curse under the mad Lord's wand. Another piece of him wanted to wrap hands around the jeerer's neck and squeeze the life out of it; anything to distract him from the agonies of twisting and rebuilding bones and organs.

What seemed like a lifetime later, Severus gradually roused from his semiconscious state and staggered over to the mirror to check the Potion's handiwork. A stranger looked back at him out of dark brown eyes, instead of black. His hair was lank and greasy as usual but thicker and it framed a pointier face with higher cheekbones and a… Damn, his nose was still broken so that would have to be repaired! A quick survey of his body showed he had lost some width of shoulder but also of hip, while he gained some length of leg and arm, and lost some length of torso. He laughed at himself when he checked out his bits and found they had not changed too much; he was still well endowed and it still rose to attention most satisfactorily.

Unfortunately, while the superficial scars had gone, the deep ones remained and that was going to be a real bitch to cure. Sighing and shaking his head, he went to his potions store and pulled out a large flagon, handling it gingerly. This was really, _really _going to hurt! The suit he had devised to hold the potion against his skin covered every inch of him except his eyes, nose and mouth. The charms would allow the first potion through to coat him from top to bottom for the required time. It literally ate away every inch of skin on his body, flaying him alive; a really deep dermal abrading potion. Then the spell banished the old potion and allowed the healing potion in through the second valve lock to coat him and repair the skin that had been melted and removed by the first potion.

He took heavy duty pain killer potions to combat the agony he was about to suffer, climbed into the suit, attached the heavy flagon of derma-brading potion to one suit lock and the equally heavy bottle of healing potions to the second. He started the spell to force the potion into the suit and lay down quickly with a full dose of Draught of the Living Dead. He barely managed to get the sleeping potion down his throat before the acidic derma-brading potion began to eat away his skin.

oo0oo

A flobberworm had died in his mouth, that was his first thought. The second was that he was in a very bad body bind. Then the last wisps of potion-induced unconsciousness faded and he remembered. Banishing the suit, he rose and staggered over to the mirror, grabbing his wand in passing. Casting the imaging spell, he set his new image against the old and studied both carefully as they turned before his eyes. He had done it! He stared at the hairless, completely unblemished image in the mirror, then at the three-dimensional images hovering beside it. Every last scar, including the mangled horror on his left forearm, was completely gone, leaving only smooth golden skin in its place. The images could have been of the same person at eighteen and at twenty-five, except of course for that blasted nose. Oh, that was going to hurt!

He shivered then realised he was standing buck naked in the middle of a cave in the heart of Scotland. Snorting in disgust, Seve… NO! Sarasvat summoned a dressing robe and slung it over his shoulders, then rolled back the sleeves when they covered his hands. He had known the potion was going to remove his hair too and it had been a bit of a sacrifice, but it was all worth it. A judicious application of Hair Replenishing potion would take care of the problem overnight.

A meal first, and then some heavy duty pain potions followed by a _Bone Breaker_ Curse and a bunch of bad language reset his nose. A gulp of Skele-gro affixed it once and for all in the long yet straight alignment his doppelganger showed. As soon as the bones were set properly, he began the last few years of de-aging, taking the potion one spoonful at a time and taking image scans as he went for comparison. Finally, five teaspoons and a full day later he was indistinguishable from the target, except for a tiny scar in his eyebrow. He debated with himself long and hard, then decided that if he was going to do this, then he had to do it properly and remove that scar, too. After all, it was the attention to the smallest details that separated the amateurs from the professionals, and no one survived as long as he had by being an amateur!

It took nearly a day of painstaking actions -- painting the scar with the debriding potion at a much lesser concentration, then careful dabbing of the hair regrowth potion to replace his eyebrow, and finally it was done. The row of three-dimensional images, each rotating slowly, were a perfect record of his de-aging, the last two images exactly the same in every aspect. He was now in truth physically the same as Sarasvat Narsimha Rao. He had done it! One more step and he would complete his transformation.

Using the last of the hair, blood and toenail samples, Sarasvat dissolved them into the vial of Adoption Potion and watched as the colour changed from sludgy brown to a nice soft apricot. The Incantation was supposed to be said by a third party and so Severus had literally recorded the spell, complete with the necessary magical energy, in a time-ball. Now that he was no longer Severus Snape, the timed ball would act as the third party, the hair samples in the potion as the second party and he as Sarasvat as the first party.

Making sure everything was at hand, he began the ritual by starting the spell ball going, his old voice spilling into the area. Conducting the adoption ritual, his magic felt like a stranger's as it engulfed him. He carefully cut his wrist and added the necessary drops of blood, slivers of nail, and strands of hair from his own person. Hair, blood and nail slivers from the original Sarasvat were added to the already fizzing potion when the spell called for the tokens from the Adopting Parent. He drank it as his own voice commanded and gritted his teeth against the agony as the potion rebuilt his magical core and gave it the correct signature, the final touch to his transformation. He was now Sarasvat Narsimha Rao in body, mind and magic!

He shivered, the urge to weep at the loss of his past identity taking him by surprise. He had always hated his life but now that it was gone, he mourned its passing. Irony indeed!

oo0oo

It had been a week since he had last crept into the Whicken household and it was past time to go back and take his proper place. He glanced around his cave and sighed deeply. There were some things here he really did not want to part with but had little choice. There were other things he simply had to keep -- his cameo portrait of Albus, a small locket from Lily, and his safe deposit key where he had decided to store all of his old memories, safely bottled, catalogued and indexed in a ledger, just in case he had need of any of them in the future. The pitifully few items he kept were shrunk down and sewn into the edge of his wand holder, which would go with him regardless. The rest… Stepping to the mouth of the cave, he turned and surveyed the natural formation that had been his home for the last week. Pulling the Demiguise hair wand, he bid farewell to his old self and cast _Incendio_, making the interior of the rock formation into a raging inferno that consumed every last shred of evidence; images, furnishings, notes and all. When the fire died away, he inspected the interior carefully and _Banished_ all trace of ash and fire, replacing the bits of lichen and small plants at the entrance to the cave so it looked undisturbed. His careful, controlled _Incendio_ had removed every last trace of Severus Ibrim Snape from the magical world and Sarasvat Narsimha Rao apparated away.

oo0oo

"I spent nearly five years in India with my family before I moved back here, went back to college and took my Potions Honorarium. The chance to buy the apothecary in Kilbridie came up so I bought it and was living quite happily on my own. Then I met Brian and you know the rest of the story," he finished, a couple of hours later.

"Incredible! A Blood adoption conducted by you, for you, with a dead man's shoes to fill, bloody hell! And you think Potter uses wish craft?" Draco shook his head, chuckling. "Er, have you thought about what your daughter will look like? Will she suddenly sprout black eyes and that famous Snape nose?"

"I pity the poor girl if she does. However, it is highly unlikely. The Blood Adoption potion replaces the original DNA completely with the new DNA from the adoptive parents. But if she does, then we only have to look at my family to account for it. Azeez has a very generous nose as does my Aunt Padma, and Rushil's eyes are black rather than brown, so it clearly runs in the family. But, if we are lucky, she will have Brian's beautiful green eyes."

"As long as she gets your hair and not his," Draco teased before growing pensive. "Uncle Sev, I-I have a favour to ask of you."

"What is it?"

"As Purebloods from Pure blood families, Adriane and I are having a very hard time, er, conceiving. Is there anything you can do to help, any potion or magic, Dark or Light? We are past caring at this point."

Nash studied the bowed head before him and nodded decisively. "I will have a look for you," he promised and Draco seemed to light up from the inside. "Now, I didn't say I would succeed."

"No, but I know you, Uncle Sev, you never fail when you put your mind to something."

Nash blushed.

"Right! A house-elf," Draco stated, bouncing to his feet and clapping his hands loudly. He winced as a dozen of the little beasts popped into the study clamouring for work and attention. "Nolly, Glumpen and Pop, front and centre, the rest of you go and see to the roof in the northern wing."

The majority of the elves disappeared with glad cries while Severus stared at his godson with an open mouth. "The North wing? Isn't that falling down through Dark spell damage?"

Draco shrugged. "It's getting better," he said off-handedly and pointed to the three named elves. "Judith of Greenwich's line had these house-elves and trained them before the line died out…"

"Greenwich, as in the original developer of Devil's Snare and Venomous Tentacular? But, but those gardens are legendary, almost a myth!"

"Humm, true but nevertheless, just one more place that has been lost and the garden-elves have devolved back to Malfoy. Uncle Sev… Nash, you have no idea of how badly this bloody war has damaged our world, how many families have ceased to exist. It's frightening. Even the Hidden Ones are hurt and this lack of fertility thing is affecting everyone, not just me and mine. If you can develop a solution to that problem, I do not think I exaggerate when I say you may save the wizarding world with it."

"Don't be so melodramatic," Nash muttered uncomfortably, then half smiled. "Nice thought though. So, house-elves… how do you choose?"

Draco grinned. "You don't, you take all three and you put them to work before they go insane and drive my own garden-elves batty with them. These three are gardening fools, believe me. Nolly, 'Master Nash' is starting a garden from scratch; nothing there but a couple of greenhouses. Are you and your two apprentices up to the task?"

The oldest elf suddenly came alive, its grey, stump-like body vibrating with contained excitement, twig-like hands uncurling and fingers twitching. "Nolly is good gardener, make rocks bloom if Master requires." There was no bragging in the words, just a calm certainty that was impressive in its simplicity.

"Very well, this is Nash, and he is to be your new master. We will perform the Binding ceremony right now."

oo0oo

Brian looked up as Nash apparated into the foyer and came in at a trot, bending to kiss his partner's forehead.

"How are you feeling? Miss me? I-I've just got to, er, go out for a moment…"

"How many?' Brian asked, amusement making his eyes spark mischief.

Nash deflated and flopped onto the bottom of the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest. "Three."

Brian burst out laughing. "Trust a Malfoy. Are they skilled?"

Nash's eyes lit up and he began to enumerate the fantastic points of the new garden-elves and the plans he had been formulating in his head since he had the chance to read the deed Brian had given him. Brian watched him with sleepy pleasure as he gabbled excitedly, slowly sinking down into sleep to the sound of his love's soft and velvety voice.

Nash looked up and saw Brian was fast asleep before he sighed and shook his head. No, he would never tell Brian the Snape Story, he owed his partner at least that much peace of mind. Maybe some Gryffindor would think he was cheating and lying but they would never know and he knew Draco, Slytherin to the core, would never tell his secret.

oo0oo


	16. Enter the Princess Part I

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Author's Note:** I'm not sure how to classify this tale. It came to me when my partner's daughter emailed us to tell us we were to be Grandparents. Go Guys! Sadly the outcome of that pregnancy was a quick trip to hospital at three and a half months, which was a distinct shock to us all, but life goes on and hopefully the next attempt will be more successful. So, enjoy the tale and don't forget to feed the author with lots of tasty reviews.

Regards

Les

**Enter the Princess**

Staring into the mirror, Brian winced, turning sideways to see just how much like a balloon he looked. He was HUGE! Because he was not allowed to _do_ anything for himself, including get up or down from a chair or bed, any muscle he used to possess in his arms and chest had turned to sloppy flab. His legs were fat, his arse… Oh Merlin! Don't mention his arse! The only part of him that looked taut and terrific was the mound where his six pack used to be, a genuine keg had sprouted… and it moved independently! He winced when a tiny foot or hand rearranged his liver to the left, then grinned as he stroked the smooth curve he was pretty sure was a certain madam's back.

"You look good, even if Daddy looks like a blooming barrage balloon. I think even my ankles are fat!" he complained starting to step into a pair of blue bikini briefs. Much as he didn't like them, they were small enough to fit under the baby bulge and not interfere with the final indignity his condition had inflicted on his long suffering body, his vagina! He'd tried 'muff' and 'wee-wee' and 'foo-foo' but it was still a vagina no matter how much verbal fluff it was wrapped in.

"Child, please remind me to teach you proper English when you are learning to talk, none of these silly baby words, humm?"

"Talking to yourself, love?" Nash asked, appearing behind him in the mirror and wrapping his arms around his partner, his hand stroking over the baby's back, too. "Merlin, you two are gorgeous," he murmured into the messy blond hair.

"Bloody aeroplane blond, me! Blond with a black box, literally!" Brian huffed but leaned back into Nash's warm strength, thinking how good they looked together in the mirror, despite his lack of fitness and burgeoning figure. "Do you think I'm getting tits? I'm growing tits, aren't I? Oh my God, I don't believe it!" He couldn't help himself. He burst into tears.

Nash turned him in the circle of his arms and pulled the head of lover gently down onto his chest, careful not to squash their child too badly between them. She had a habit of kicking ten shades of Sunday out of Brian whenever they did that. "Now, Love, remember what Hipax said, these next few weeks are critical and every change your body manages to complete is another steppingstone on the way to the survival of our little girl. I know it's hard, Beautiful, but you are doing so well, it's truly amazing to see how much you have accomplished all by yourself."

Brian sniffled but allowed himself to be mollified as Nash gently guided him to the bed and picked up a set of robes in the softest of dusty blue cotton. With a practiced hand, he slid them over Brian's messy blond head and helped push his hands into the armholes. Easing him into sitting on the bed, Nash located a pair of soft blue socks and put them on Brian's feet, then added matching blue slippers before he held out his hands and helped Brian to rise again.

"So, what are you up to today?" Brian asked as he was seated at the breakfast table and Nash tapped for food.

"Well, I'm going to spend a couple of hours getting my new elves started in the gardens and then… you and I are going for a carriage ride. What do you think about that?"

Brian blinked stupidly. "But we haven't got a carriage," he mentioned forlornly.

'No, but our favourite purveyor of house-elves has a whole fleet of carriages as well as unicorns and thestrals broken to harness and house-elves well able to drive such an equipage. When I mentioned how bored and fed-up you were, he offered to send us a carriage to take you out for an airing, just like an old-fashioned lady of delicate birth."

"I am _not _a lady!" Brian protested querulously, tossing his napkin down.

"True, but you are bearing a lady," Nash replied and saved the day as Brian's petulance melted and a soft smile curved his mouth. Nash let out a silent sigh of relief. Conversation was a verbal minefield these days as mood swings could be easily triggered by the most unlikely things.

oo0oo

The carriage was beautiful when the house-elves engorged it at the doorstep, all pale blue coachwork with silver trim, and large white pneumatic tires, like something out of a fairy tale. Drawn by four white unicorns, it was disillusioned to look like carriage horses with the house-elves disguised as human footmen. Inside, the lambs wool seats were covered by thick angora blankets to tuck around the occupants' knees. Permanent warming charms made the interior toasty warm and permanent defogging charms meant the windows did not ice up although they looked frosted from the outside, ensuring the occupants their privacy.

Brian and Nash sat in cozy comfort as the carriage bowled off down the road, a plume of feathery snow following them. Brian laughed when children waved as they pulled through the village and out the other side to bowl down the country lanes and admire the sweeps of pristine snow that were usually cow pastures and hay fields. Even the wintry bare trees took on an ethereal beauty when the winter sun sparkled off the ice crystals, transforming the whole world into a glittery jewelled confection of perfection.

"This is how winter should be," Brian remarked, greatly cheered by the outing. "All sparkling beauty and sunny joy."

"I'll remind you of the beauty when the storms roar through and the sky looks so leaden it might crash to the earth and crush all of humanity under its weight," Nash intoned sulphurously.

"Oh, you! Oh, look, isn't that Mandy slogging her way through the drifts?"

"Good Lord, it is too! Hullo, Mandy!" Nash called out through the door he had opened a crack.

The girl looked up and pushed her hat back a little to stare at the carriage in disbelief. "Well hello! Look at this, isn't it posh!"

"Quick! Get in before you let all the warmth out," Nash prodded as a house-elf quickly let the step down for her. "What are you doing wandering around in the snow like that?"

Mandy sighed as she unwrapped a few layers of clothing. "Getting out of the house before the walls close in and eat me alive, actually. Being stuck at home with my wretched brothers and father is just the pits. They can't seem to get it though their thick heads that I am not their bloody servant! Just because Mum is a slave to their every whim, doesn't mean I am going to follow in her footsteps, believe me! I told our Billy he was barking up the wrong tree if he though I was going to wash his clothes when he had a perfectly good set of hands and feet of his own. He took offence and said something along the lines that I would never get a husband with an attitude like that, so I said he was still living at home because there weren't more reservations for bleeding Neanderthals left in Great Britain. Then it was on."

Both Brian and Nash were in stitches at her indignant pantomiming of the fight as they continued on their outing, the girl livening up the conversation and making them both laugh so much Brian almost thought he would wet himself. It was a wonderful trip. When the carriage pulled up outside a small country house, Brian was most surprised.

Nash merely smiled with infuriating smugness and helped his partner out of the carriage, offering his other arm to Mandy who raised an eyebrow and took it with a small curtsey. The three of them made their way inside, the dark wood and cosy cream carpeted foyer attended by a stout woman who took their outer robes and coats before ushering them into a tea parlour. They were seated in an out-of-the-way inglenook where they could watch the passing parade without drawing notice to themselves.

Mandy felt rather self-conscious in this very Wizarding establishment where house-elves brought trays and served patrons, and wands were used without subterfuge. Brian grinned and shook his head, dismissing her fears as groundless as a house-elf in a spotless tea towel toga came over to offer them tea menus. Brian chose a chamomile, vanilla bean and honey tea while Mandy opted for an oolong tea delicately flavoured with a hint of rose petals. Nash went all traditional having a very milky, very sweet chai whose steam alone nearly burned their sinuses out.

"Chai marsala, good for you," he said making a fist and flexing his biceps most showily.

Brian laughed. "And enough sugar to rot out all your teeth in a few days," he teased back while Mandy just laughed.

A spread of assorted chocolate biscuits, shortbread, scones, friands, fairy cakes and pound cake slices appeared in the middle of the table, an accompanying platter of various jams, honey and whipped cream following a second later.

"Oh no, there goes my diet," Mandy moaned but was just as eager to snag a fluffy light currant scone as Brian was. They duelled good-naturedly over the strawberry jam dish, each heaping it on their scones followed by a mound of freshly whipped cream.

"I am going to pay for every last mouthful of this," Brian groaned as he bit into the confection and moaned in ecstasy. "Utterly sinful!"

"You have a cream moustache," Nash teased and leaned in to wipe it away with his thumb as a flash went off and startled them all.

Before any of them could react, the culprit had legged it, a series of shouts and shaken fists in their wake.

"What the bloody Hell was that all about?" Mandy asked in wide-eyed surprise when Nash swore viciously.

"That was an illegal photograph taken without permission and no doubt it will be splashed all over the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ in tomorrow's edition," Brian said glumly, his scone no longer so tasty looking.

"Oh? Oh well, too late to worry about it now." Mandy shrugged philosophically as she bit into her scone. "Hey, you two. Are you seriously going to let one boorish pain-in-the-arse ruin what started out being a _very _fine afternoon treat? I think not, gentlemen! Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you go sue the pants off someone over the invasion of privacy!" She struck a pose and soon both young men smiled at her clowning, finally relaxing and enjoying once again the afternoon tea treats with as much light-heartedness as they had before the intrusive incident.

oo0oo

Of its kind, the photo on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ was rather sweet, with Nash and Brian leaning into one another while Mandy looked on, a bright, happy smile on her face. The accompanying article was vitriolic, viperish and vindictive.

"And all other things nasty beginning with 'V'," Hermione added when Brian began to rant again. "At least your vocabulary has increased, but it's not exactly useful at this time."

"But just listen to this! '_An overweight Lothario who no longer has to take care of himself now that he has landed his man_'. And this! '_T__he sheer bad taste to bring a _Muggle_ into _The Original Tea Shoppe_ on a Sunday afternoon_'. They make Mandy sound like uh, an inferior species or something! This is the worst bit though, pure venom, if you ask me. '_Sources close to the newly Bonded pair murmur hints of a tantruming Wardsmith who cannot be bothered to get out of bed any more. Sources tell us that land totalling a quarter of a million Galleons has been signed over to the owner of the Apothecary in Kilbridie. Is this payment for services rendered and have all the pretty little facades been taken down now that Rao, a struggling Potions Honorarium, is bought and paid for? Rumours that Wardsmith is really Harry Potter in disguise have been circulating on a regular basis here in the capital. Is this just another example of the Boy-Who-Lived's overweaning selfishness and need to have his own way in all things? When our reporter asked the Wardsmith-Raos to comment on this rumour, they were met with the bullying tactics and stonewalling that have become so much a part of the way the general public has always been treated in the past by the arrogant Boy-Who-Lived._' She's really pushing the envelope this time, Hermione." Brian bit his lip to stop it wobbling so sloppily. He had very little control over his emotions these days as the birth of their child drew closer.

"She's really desperate for an interview and hopes to goad you into one, is what she is," Hermione replied, carefully choosing a piece of fruit from the bowl near Brian's hand, her expression thoughtful.

"Can we sue her for defamation of character?" Nash asked, eyeing his partner carefully as Brian surreptitiously wiped his eyes. The mood-swings had been coming thick and fast as the final fortnight of the pregnancy began.

"Well, in essence, no, as she didn't actually come out and say you were Harry Potter. Unless you are willing to admit that, you have no case. And if you did admit it, then she was right and you have no case because it will look like you were angling for the publicity in the first instant."

"Damn that woman! Couldn't you just catch her and stick her into a jar again?"

"No! The bitch registered very quietly at the end of the war." Hermione huffed, ignoring the two men who looked startled when she used a naughty word. "What? Did you think I didn't know those words, just because I choose not to swear? Remember to whom I am married, then remember how little consideration Ron ever gives the conventions. Skeeter just pushes my buttons is all, conniving, underhanded, _hack_ that she is!"

"Point taken," Brian smirked, a hand absent-mindedly rubbing his belly, a faint frown marring his brow. "But what are we going to do about her? She's a bloody nuisance!"

Nash merely shook his head as Hermione shrugged and sighed.

oo0oo

The man in the non-descript brown robes was very ordinary, indistinguishable and unremarkable as he handed his vault key to the goblin. Vault 2864 was equally unremarkable, one of the upper level walk-ins used by the Muggle-borns who were established but not particularly wealthy. Stepping inside, the man closed the door and crossed to the bookshelf to take down a ledger. A column of figures ran down one side of the page and a short description ran down the other. A finger skimmed the entries then stopped to tap thoughtfully on a particular number before the ledger was closed and replaced.

Opening the large cupboard on the opposite wall, the man selected vial number 358 from the rack upon rack of uniform, numbered vials and tipped the contents into the Pensieve that was stored in the bottom of the cupboard. Reviewing the memory, he pulled out of the Penseive and smiled, a smirk usually seen on a very different face, carefully scooping the silvery strand up and putting it back into the vial. A quick wave of the wand and the vial was twice duplicated, label and all. The original was replaced in the rack with the copies' labels peeled off before they went into a pocket. In moments the vault was locked and left undisturbed once again.

oo0oo

Kingsley Shacklebolt was head of Operations at the MLE, his office a whirl of papers, spell detectors and the odd Extendible ear curled over the mantelpiece. His desk, however, was always clear and ready for action. Until now. At this moment, a very ordinary Gringotts barn owl sat there in the middle of it, a single memory vial strapped to its leg by a very ordinary length of Gringotts string, no letter or indicator to say who it was from, just the Gringotts owl who was getting a little annoyed at the ring of wands pointed at it.

Hestia Jones and Martin Luthanser were equally wary of the undistinguished and indistinguishable vial that seemed to mock them in its ordinariness.

"And you have no clue where it came from or who it's from, at all?" Antonin Blackthorn reiterated, scratching his head with his free hand.

"I think that has been well established," Ron grunted and finally raised his wand, slipping it back into the forearm holster in one smooth movement. "Well, let's have a look at it, then." He reached forward and everyone held their breaths as the string came loose, the vial rolling onto the blotter. The owl took off in a whirl of feathers, making the Aurors jump and laugh self-consciously at their own nervousness.

"It's rather odd how we all reacted as if it was a bomb, yet there was absolutely no indication it's anything but harmless," Shacklebolt mused as Weasley stood the vial back up on the blotter in the middle of the desk, and they all went back to contemplating it again.

"An unaccompanied memory is always something to be wary of," Hestia replied in the same tone, a lazy flick of her wand bringing the official Pensieve to rest on the table beside the innocuous, yet dangerous vial. "The question remains, though; who sent us a memory, of what and why?"

"Who's going to look at it?" Blackthorn asked, glancing around the circle.

"Are you volunteering?" his mate, Luthanser, asked blandly.

"I'll give it a glance," Ron said decisively and picked up the glass tube, uncorked and poured it into the Pensieve with a steady hand. The covering wands were poised for action but nothing untoward occurred as the redhead stepped up and bent his face to the silvery fluid. He was gone for only a few minutes, but when he came back, his mouth was hanging open. "You know how we thought it was a bomb? Well, it is! You have _got_ to see this!"

Luthanser stayed on guard as the other four dipped into the Pensive and fell into a nightmare world of darkness, punctuated by flickering torches and tortured screams. Both Shacklebolt and Blackthorn went for their wands when they came face to face with the red-eyed horror they knew as Voldemort. The creature sat on his tattered throne, his wand held negligently on a black robed figure writhing and screaming on the ground before the dais. As the _Crucio_ finished, the Dark Lord barely moved his focus before another black robed figure to the right of the one who had supplied the memory fell to the same curse.

The watchers shivered as one after the other Death Eaters spent time under the curse, writhing and screaming, and in some cases fouling themselves. Then suddenly, their whole viewpoint became agonised as the memory maker was tortured in his turn. Kingsley braced for the expected attenuated sensation but the two younger Aurors let out yelps of second hand pain before they could help themselves. Ron and Hestia were more stoic, having felt the real, immediate nerve conduction pain of the Cruciatus Curse on more than one occasion.

Suddenly the pain stopped and the Dark Lord whipped around, his hex flying up to the rafters to splash it with lurid purple light. A small thing fell, growing larger, the buzz turning to a scream as a plump body landed heavily on the stone flags, then writhed as _Crucio_ hit it – her -- before the echoes of the crash had died away.

"_Well, well, well, Missss SSSkeeter, is it not? How lovely to see you here, and in your very versatile Animagus form, no less."_

The writhing blonde on the ground was indeed the reporter everyone loved to hate, much younger and very much less poised in her undignified position, but she did try to pull herself together under the heavy hands that grasped her shoulders and hauled her to her feet. She tried to shrug them off but they forced her to her knees before the Lord who had risen to his full height and studied her with contemptuous amusement.

"_So, Missss SSSkeeter, explain to me why I should not simply dispose of you right at this moment?"_

"_Because I am a useful and powerful ally and I can sway the public to your cause… or not,"_ the reporter said smugly, then screamed as the Cruciatus Curse lashed her for her temerity. _"Please, please, I can be very useful, really I can! Look what I have done to Potter already! He can't even show his face in the street without people spitting on him or calling him insane. That was my doing, __mine__, and no one else's! Look at how everyone ignores Fudge's stupidity and lets him make the most ridiculous decisions because __I__ choose to promote his cause. Look how they have ignored your return and denied it to the point of torturing Potter to make sure he is not believed. My doing, __only mine__!"_

"_And why should I think you do this for my benefit?"_

"_Because I hate Muggles and all they stand for! I hate the ignorant, arrogant Mudbloods who come in here thinking they are so much better than people like me who have worked and schemed their arses off to get places then to have it all fall apart because a Mudblooded bitch is prettier or more willing to whore herself for much less than me."_

"_So, Rita Skeeter, you are saying you are a supporter of our Lord, even though you do not have a Dark Mark nor were you recruited through the regular channels like everyone else,"_ a robed figure asked softly, which they all recognised as Malfoy Senior's voice.

"_I am an ardent follower and supporter of our Lord because I believe in his ideas and his methods of changing our world," Skeeter said, bowing her head to the Dark Lord who smiled down on her almost benignly._

"_In that case, I have a little task for you…"_

The memory finished and spat them out, the four Aurors staring at each other in shock. "Bloody hell! Rita Skeeter was a Death Eater after all! Or at least a collaborator."

"That bitch made Harry's life a living hell," Ron began indignantly then narrowed his eyes. "I wonder who sent this? Who has Skeeter had it in for recently?"

"I know who the memory is from, but the man is dead…" Hestia began.

"Who?"

"Oh, come now, Ron, surely the screams were in a voice you recognised? Soft, smooth as velvet, sharp as razor wire?"

"Snape? Yes, you're right that was Snape's voice but who has access to Snape's memories?" Kingsley asked, running a hand over his smoothly shaven head.

"Harry had a vial of Snape's memories but… Nah, Harry wouldn't draw attention to himself like this. He's not that stupid!"

oo0oo

Rita Skeeter was queen of the _Daily Prophet_ reporting staff. If she said she wanted the front page for her story, then she got the front page. No matter how hard the current editor tried to block her, the owners of the paper simply endorsed her every word or dictate. If the editor fought too hard, then there was a new editor in hardly as much time as it took to make the Floo call.

Josiah Hardy looked at the series of photos Skeeter had tossed on his blotter and shuddered. The young man in the photos looked very fat and ungainly as he was helped around the garden by a small, skinny house-elf. In another he was unconsciously rubbing the side of his very large and very rounded belly before he glanced up at the approaching man and smiled lovingly. The third was obviously taken through a window and showed the two young men dressed in casual shirts and pants, the shorter one very obviously pregnant, the baby moving and kicking, making the shirt jump and both young men laugh. The final photo was a composite, the young, pregnant man and a shot of Harry Potter side by side with the same expression and half smile.

"Now do you understand?" Skeeter crowed in triumph as he looked up, careful to keep his expression completely neutral.

"What am I supposed to understand? That you have invaded the privacy of two young men, and taken spy photos of the Boy-Who-Lived without his consent?"

Rita snarled angrily. "No, you idiot! I have taken photos of the pregnant Boy-Who-Lived-To-Fuck-Men and obviously likes it up the arse! Final proof that that stupid brat does have feet of pure muck like every other bloody hero there ever was. His so-precious reputation will never survive this scandal, I promise you! He will be destroyed!"

"Who cares what the Chosen One chooses to do these days. The war is over and we won. Harry Potter destroyed the Dark Lord and everyone lives happily ever after, except you who insists on trying to change that. You know, Rita, an investigative reporter might just be interested enough to wonder why you can't just leave Harry Potter alone, now that the war is finished. In fact, as an ex-reporter myself, I do wonder why…"

Before he could speculate any further, his secretary poked her head around the door and began to make an announcement before the door was thrust open properly and red robed Aurors stormed in unannounced. Rita straightened abruptly as the chair she had been leaning on went skittering away across the floor only to be hexed into splinters by a nervous Auror.

"Rita Skeeter, I arrest you in the name of the Minister of…"

"Oh, can it, Weasley, you can't arrest me. The Minister would never allow such a thing, or at least he wouldn't do so for long," she added with a purr of self-assured arrogance.

"Actually, Skeeter, the Minister has ordered your immediate arrest personally and he asked me to give you a message. '_You can stick your blackmail up your bloody arse, your infringement is too grave to overlook this time._'"

"What? But… but I have photos… His wife…"

Hardy's journalistic ears popped up but Auror Weasley merely smiled enigmatically. "His wife also said that if you think that stale old tale was worth repeating, then you are a bigger fool than you look, if that is possible. Miss Rita Jemima Skeeter, I am arresting you in the name of the Ministry to answer to the charges of being a Death Eater collaborator and spy. Anything you say or do will be taken down and Pensieved as evidence in the case against you before the Wizengamot." He gestured for his young colleague to put the magical binders on the woman but before Antonin Blackthorn could do so, Skeeter began to shrink.

Weasley chuckled and murmured a spell, Skeeter shooting back to her normal size with a screech of pain as a magical collar solidified around her neck and heavy linked chains formed between her wrists and ankles. "None of that now. As a registered Animagus we took that possibility into account when we came to arrest you. No slipping away this time, Skeeter."

The whole newsroom turned out to watch as the two Aurors led the chained and collared reporter out. She could only stumble as the chain between her ankles was short enough to make sure she could not run anywhere. The collar inhibited both the Animagus and Apparation spells so she was well and truly trapped and humiliated, her colleagues gloating and laughing at her plight.

"Well, do something!" she screamed as those at the back craned to get a better look.

"Sure," a portly man said kindly and opened the door with a courtly bow for the small party to exit. The rest of the news crew gave a round of applause as he shut the door after them, cutting off Skeeter's shrieking invective.

A small, nondescript owl landed on Colin Creevey's desk, a silvery vial attached to its leg. Blinking, he undid the Gringotts string and stared at the vial in puzzled surprise. The note was short and to the point, making his hair stand on end in excitement.

"Anyone got a Pensieve I can borrow?" he called generally over the excited cheering that broke out spontaneously in Skeeter's wake.

oo0oo


	17. Enter the Princess Part II

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more.

**Author's Note:** I'm not sure how to classify this tale. It came to me when my partner's daughter emailed us to tell us we were to be Grandparents. Go Guys! Sadly the outcome of that pregnancy was a quick trip to hospital at three and a half months, which was a distinct shock to us all, but life goes on and hopefully the next attempt will be more successful. So, enjoy the tale and don't forget to feed the author with lots of tasty reviews.

Regards

Les

**RITA SKEETER, UNMASKED AS A DEATH EATER!**

The headline fairly screamed from the page as bundles of the _Daily Prophet_ hit the cobbled footpaths of Diagon Alley. Dark, grainy pictures beckoned people to buy and study, the Creevey byline prominently displayed. The shocking revelation rocked the wizarding world all over again.

Lidz paid the news owl and handed the rolled-up paper to her master who flicked off the string indifferently. He almost swallowed his tongue when the headline glared out at him. Yelling out, he called Nash to come quickly as he spread the sheets out and studied the pictures, shuddering at the content. Nash ran into the room, thinking Brian was hurt only to skid to a stop. He blinked hard when he saw the headline, a shiver tracing down his spine as he studied the grim photographs. Even in poor quality newsprint, they were shocking and impacting to the mind.

"It's Colin's story, see. I didn't think Colin wrote, only took pictures for the _Prophet_," Brian murmured, never lifting his eyes off the text. The story was more a list of facts and statements, completely lacking in speculation or innuendo, but it was as hard-hitting as any article that had ever appeared.

_Yesterday afternoon an anonymous owl delivered a memory to our offices, specifically addressed to this reporter. The note asked if photographs could be taken within Pensieves and if so, then perhaps I would be interested. It had never been done before but I took in my camera and snapped pictures to bring to the attention of our readers one who has managed to avoid the cleansing of our society through her usual half-truths and the blackmailing of innocents. Yes, it is true, condemned from her own mouth, Rita Skeeter was a Death Eater collaborator, an agent of You-Know-Who and an ardent believer in his ideas for the removing of Muggle-borns from wizarding society._

_When confronted with the evidence, Miss Skeeter first denied all knowledge, and then claimed it was a false memory. When she failed to move the Aurors who had come to arrest her to sympathy for her plight, she then tried to escape in her Animagus form but the Aurors had already put up shields. She will be given a hearing under Veritaserum before the full Wizengamot on the last day of January of this year. I do not know who sent me the memory but it has been taken as evidence of Miss Skeeter's wrong-doing by the Aurors and will be tested for authenticity before it is entered in the prosecution case she must answer to._

Nash looked up as Brian smiled a smug grin of pure satisfaction. "I always hated that bitch and this is poetic justice of the finest kind. Even if the memory proves to be a complete fabrication, it's just a taste of what she has done to so many people in the past. I doubt she will ever live it down, not in a thousand years!"

"And if it is true?" Nash questioned softly.

Brian sighed. "I'd like to rip her limb from limb, then feed her to a dragon. Then I'd bring her back to life and let the Dementors Kiss her, but that's just me," he added with a sly smile.

"Bloodthirsty little brat," Nash teased, then frowned as a faint wince twisted Brian's face. "You okay?"

"Oh, yes, nothing's wrong. Just that she has sharp fingers and is playing the harp using my guts for strings; seems to be the hobby of the moment," Brian complained humorously, rubbing his side.

"As long as you feel okay. I'll be home at lunch time to see how you are but I really have to go into the shop today or my customers are going to lynch Mandy. If you feel even the tiniest bit ill or uncomfortable, send Lidz to get me or send Pinit for Lila or Hipax, okay?"

"I'll be fine, I promise!" Brian laughed and reached up to kiss his cheek before sending him on his way and settling back against the cushions. Despite his exhaustion, Brian could not rest, fidgeting uneasily until he felt he had to move or he'd explode. Perhaps a bath would help but no, if he had a bath then the house-elves would be fussing and fawning over him all the time. If he had a shower, Lidz would most likely leave him alone as she did not approve of the new fangled, Muggle way of bathing, not at all! Grinning, he grabbed the arms of the chair in preparation to getting up.

Lidz eyed her master uneasily as he managed to pull his swollen body out of the chair after he had refused her help to rise. She hovered behind him as he headed for the bathroom, asking if she could run a bath or get him some clothes or something but he just waved her away and headed for the shower. Shaking her head in disgust, the house-elf changed the bed linen and fluffed the pillows. She _Banished_ any stray grain of dust that dared invade the space and made sure her master's clothes were all ready for him when he came out of the shower, nasty thing that it was. Showers were a bad thing that were undignified and not very good for wizards who should soak in fine oils and unguents to get clean, and not stamp around and…

The scream cut off her thoughts and sent her popping into the bathroom in time to see the master crumple to the tiled floor, the water still pounding on his head as he clutched his leg and moaned, cramps visibly twisting the muscles of his leg even as the house-elf turned off the shower and tried to hover him out of the glassed-in cubicle. Pinit appeared out of nowhere, drawn by the agonised screams, her small hands wringing in panic as her mother popped in behind her.

"Mimi, go get Master from the Potions shop. Pinit, get Mistress Lila from Hogwarts. Master's baby is coming, I think!" the old elf ordered her family members who did not even bother to comment as they hurriedly popped off.

oo0oo

As soon as Mimi and Pinit popped out, Lidz put a body bind on the master and levitated him out of the bathroom. Carefully positioning him on the carpet, the house-elf summoned the miniature table Master Hipax had left for just this occasion. She engorged the delivery bench and tried to banish all the usual bedroom furniture to the attic without success. Drawn by the fuss, Nolly and Glumpen came in from the garden and suddenly found themselves roped in to shrink and remove the furniture. Pop was ordered to take up and shrink the carpets as Lidz lowered Master to the table and carefully softened the body bind. She thoughtfully placed a sticking charm when Master tried to curl in a ball, clutching at his bulging stomach. Every time a cramp twisted his arms or legs he would whimper and shake, the tremors growing worse and worse.

_Brian could not move, a full body bind holding him in place no matter how hard he struggled to get away. People were screeching and dying, falling all around him as agony twisted his frame. He didn't know where the Cruciatus Curse was coming from and was helpless to win free of its thrall. The agony seemed to go on forever before he managed to pull away only to fall into another pit of horror._

Lidz was contemplating her next move when Mimi returned with Master who hurried over with a cry of horror, gathering young Master into his arms. As soon as Lidz mentioned the cramps, he nodded distractedly.

"_Accio_ potions one, two and three!" Nash shouted, holding out his hands. The pre-prepared bottles zoomed up the stairs and smacked into his waiting hands with a clink and chime of glass. Lidz hurried forward to hold two of the bottles while Master poured the contents of the first down young Master's throat without regard. He barely paused, tossing the empty vial over his shoulder as he grabbed the second and did the same. Lidz opened her mouth to protest but was forestalled as the third bottle was tipped into young Master's mouth.

_Brian thought he was drowning, an invisible something pressing over his face and chest making it impossible to take a decent breath. He tried to swallow but was not able to move the required muscles, the fluid flowing to block his oesophagus instead. Fluid like stinging knives invaded his lungs cutting and burning until he couldn't breathe. The mer-folk were stabbing him with spears and short sharp knives as his gills refused to process water and extract the precious oxygen of life. His wad of gilly weed was too big to chew, gagging his cries and effectively choking him._

"Master! He is choked, you is to stop now! You is drowning him!" The old elf was moved to protest as the whimpers turned to gargles and coughing.

Nash's mouth dropped open and he gave an inarticulate howl of horror when he realized his zeal had almost drowned his partner. Leaning the burlier man forward, he pounded him on the back, making him cough and splutter, trying to avoid the blows with weak twists and turns but between the fluid in his lungs, the cramps twisting his limbs and the pounding on his back, he was not doing well.

"Master! Stop! Stop! You is killing them!" Lidz yelled at the top of her squeaky voice and actually slapped her master's hands away, making the other elves cringe in horror.

Nash snarled wordlessly but realised the house-elf had a point. Sense finally penetrated and drove the blind panic away as he realised what was happening. Sitting his partner up properly, he drew his wand and cast a spell to help his partner get around the blockage in his lungs that he himself had caused.

_His uncle kicked and punched him, pummelling his body without surcease until he screamed aloud in his agony. His uncle's bellows of rage were unintelligible in his ire and Harry didn't know what he wanted, couldn't do anything to help himself, and could not escape the blows._

_Why couldn't they all leave him alone?_

_Why was this happening?_

_When would it stop?_

_Everything froze._

"Come on, Brian… Breathe, damn you! Breathe!" he murmured, pulling the younger man's breathing into the rhythm he had established.

_He tried, he tried, he tried, tried, tried… and…_

Nash's efforts were rewarded by a tiny wheezing breath then another, as the blue tinge finally began to leave Brian's lips. A small but significant intake of air hissed through his lips into starving lungs, warm air from another's lungs, forcing oxygen into him, giving him life and the strength to take another small sip of air on his own. Brian was breathing again and the mer-people were withdrawing, the water receding. His uncle was retreating, a capering ghost on the edge of nightmare. Pink light made him realise his eyes were tightly closed and he tried to open them, tried to make sense of what he was feeling.

Nash mewled in relief but then tightened his grip as another wave of cramping hit his partner, making his belly ripple and jump, twisting his spine and making his legs draw up to his chest. Brian cried out in agony and Nash could do nothing but hold him tightly and try to force him to breathe through it.

"Where the hell is Hipax?" Nash snarled at the cowering elves who shrugged as the three garden elves made a hasty and strategic retreat leaving Lidz and Mimi to bear the brunt of the Master's wrath.

"Pinit gone for Miss Lila and she get Master Hipax, I sure," Lidz answered, gnawing on her fingers in her distress.

Before Nash could say any more, the door was flung open and a dishevelled Hipax hurried in, closely followed by an equally breathless Poppy. The obstetrician took one look at the situation and grabbed for his wand.

"How long has he been like this?" he demanded, pulling a stool and a light ball from his bag. The light was a harsh white when activated, flooding the area with sterilising rays as well as light, as he hitched his hip onto the engorged stool and _Accioed_ a potion from his bag. Slathering a large amount of the thick numbing potion onto the bulging, rippling belly of his patient, he transfigured his wand into a scalpel. With a terse 'hold him', the obstetrician placed the tip of his wand into the tip of the newly formed vestigial vagina and parted the flesh with one firm stroke.

Agony caught Brian in its grip once again, tore into his vitals with the unexpected lash of a hex from the night and the arms around him tightened like a vise as another wave of noise crashed over him. The invisible torturers were dragging him apart, pulling him in half, uncurling him and forcing him to expose his soft underbelly to the knife. It bit! Brian howled as the skin split right up to his navel, exposing the muscles of the abdominal wall which were also dealt with in swift order.

Lancets of pure fire sliced through his skin and muscle, tearing him in half, gutting him. The blade was relentless, gouging deeper and deeper, piercing his core and spilling his magic down its length to spurt all over the floor. There was no womb; just a barrier of pure core magic and Hipax took a deep breath.

"Once I open this envelope, we have only a few minutes to get the baby out and get it closed again before all the core magic runs out and we lose them both. Are we ready people?" he asked, never shifting his attention from his task.

"Ready!"

Nash tightened his grip as the surgeon bent and made a cutting motion with a smooth, decisive stroke. The wand clattered onto the table by Brian's hip as he reached forward and slid both hands into the gaping gash he had made. Brian screamed! It was a wail of pure agony that pierced the ears and hearts of all present but the relentless horror did not cease, the hands gave no mercy as they delved into his abdomen and tore out his intestines. As his internals were haled out, his magic rushed after them, taking his breath and soul with them. The motion was subtle and slightly twisting but a rounded head of damp black hair was quickly followed by small curved shoulders and a belly, then two legs.

"Got her, thank Merlin, I have her! Here! Take her!"

The limp purplish-pink bundle was handed off to the side as a gush of mixed blood and magic followed, madly escaping out of the gaping wound. Poppy's skilled and experienced hands caught the child that was almost thrown at her without missing a beat. She turned to do her job by the child, ignoring the agonised scream that came from her father. Even though it tore her heart out, there was no time for sentiment or any emotions as time was of the essence.

Eviscerated, the patient arched high into the pain, his mind, magic and spirit as one. Hipax grabbed up his wand again and began to cast a shielding spell, damming the magic's mad rush, forcing it to stay within the body. There was not much magic left in the man's core and the loss of even a little bit was a critical deficit. A second wand joined his, forcing power into the shield and holding it so that the surgeon could turn his wand to the delicate and intricate process of reweaving the wall of the core back together. A second spell augmented his, not interfering but strengthening his work and making it more leak-proof than the original spell Hipax had learned years ago. He resolved to learn the new one as soon as possible.

The reweaving of the magical core's walls was a slow, but necessary process and had to be completed even more meticulously than the sealing of the outer wound, which was much less dangerous at this point. Testing his work, he found it sealed and magic-proof, no leakage out the sides of the repair. Breathing a sigh of relief, Hipax then turned his _Acclaro_ spell to the rest of the organs he had so blatantly disregarded in his hurry to retrieve the child from her father's belly. There he had inadvertently nicked the large bowel and quickly sealed that, dribbling healing potion and cleansing potion into the wound to stop infection developing. Here the badly-used bladder was in need of a small repair, as it had been wrenched aside without regard for the delicacy or fragility of the organ.

Finally, he used his best technique developed over the years to literally knit the muscle fibres back together, making them as strong and elastic as they had been before he had parted them so rudely. The skin was the last bit to be healed, the vestigial vagina already reabsorbed into the body. It had not had much of a chance to develop and was not a major issue as Hipax resealed the skin, careful not to leave a scar. Most of his clients were society women who found scars to be totally abhorrent and would tantrum wildly if he left a visible mark on their precious and usually pampered bodies.

The worst of the work was done but still the young man was not breathing independently, his partner literally breathing for him as he still lay limp and unresponsive on the table. Worried, Hipax cast an _Acclaro_ spell and was daunted by the stilled heart and the almost non-existent levels of magic in the body of his client.

"We're losing him! Hurry! We're losing him!"

"NO-o!"

oo0oo

Poppy and Lila were just dealing with the last of the paperwork following the usual weekend Quidditch injuries when the distraught Rao house-elf popped into the hospital wing, wringing her hands and banging her head on the floor.

"Master is having baby, now! He is screaming and crying and is bad, very bad!"

Poppy rose swiftly and nodded to Lila. "You get my birthing bag and go straight there, I'll fetch Hipax," she ordered and hurried to the Floo, tossing a handful of powder in as she called for the Bones-Bulstrode surgery.

Two rather well dressed young women looked up in shock as the school nurse stepped deftly through, one turning up her nose, the other greeting Madam Pomfrey most deferentially.

"Good morning Miss Burnstein, or is it Mrs Warmington, now. Sorry, I have to take Medi-wizard Bulstrode off for a while, an emergency," Poppy murmured in passing as she opened the door unceremoniously and stuck her head around the jam. "It's time; Pinit just came to alert me that it has started."

"Right with you, Poppy. Sorry, ladies, babies wait for no man." The eminent obstetrician yelled _Accio_, caught the flying medical bag out of midair and disappeared into the Floo with not another word.

The room was cleared of all furniture and unnecessary items, the birthing bed set in the middle of the room with plenty of space to work in all around it. There was an excess of elves but three of them silently popped away as soon as Poppy had one of them bring back the dresser and put into its place by the wall. Lila was already removing the towel from around Brian's waist and making sure Nash was in the proper position for the birth.

Poppy saw her birthing bag by the door and opened it, removing the necessary potions and equipment to make sure the baby was weighed, measured and prepared for its new life. She had attended many births and was adept at ignoring the screams and tantrums some of the birthing mothers felt it necessary to indulge in but this was something new. She had known Harry Potter more than half his life, had seen him through many a curse and hex, Quidditch injury and some terrible times but she had never heard him scream in agony like this. Magically blocking her ears, her hands continued to prepare the receiving area for the newborn child. The house-elf, Pinit, popped in bearing a bowl of warm water, and baby potion already making soft powdery scented bubbles ready to wash the newborn clean in.

There was hardly any warning as the child was thrust into her hands and she was dismissed to do her part while the obstetrician did his.

Glancing down, her eyes widened at the sight of the purple, still child, limp and unresponsive in the soft receiving blanket. Dashing over to the sideboard, Poppy laid her bundle down and grabbed her wand, firing a very small, low powered stunner at the narrow chest. The small body twitched but did not respond as it should so she cast _Acclaro_ and bit her lip when she saw the thin, constant strand of magic streaming away toward the mess on the floor near the birthing table. The child was still connected to her mother's magic and that had to be stopped. Usually the connection was severed when the umbilical cord was cut but… No umbilical cord! Poppy clicked her tongue in exasperation at her own oversight and pulled out the clippers, cutting the invisible cord and smiling in relief as the child's core stopped bleeding onto the floor. It was very odd to see a child without the remnants of the cord or even an umbilical scar but a child born of man was sustained by magic only, not by physical means.

As soon as the magical core drain stopped, the child began to show some faint signs of turning pink and the old Medi-witch quickly set up a warming light over the dresser before even attempting to wash, weigh or measure the child. Still, she wasn't responding very well despite all their efforts, still purple and cold to the touch. Glancing up, Madam Pomfrey saw the house-elf Pinit standing there with an exquisite lace gown and cap held over her arms, tears running down her face.

"No, I'm not prepared to concede defeat and dress her for her funeral yet," Poppy snapped, massaging the thin chest and feeling the tiniest flutter of a heartbeat. "Not while there is breath and life in either body, hers or mine!" The old woman carefully lowered the cold body into the warm bath and began to massage and manipulate her limbs all the while keeping the breathing spell in place over the tiny, slack mouth. "Come on baby, come on!" She encouraged quietly as she worked.

oo0oo

There was singing, lots of voices in chorus but not harmony, as if everyone in the world was singing to a different tune. Harry smiled as he remembered Hogwarts feasts past, all the same words but the tune of choice. He stretched and realised he was lying in a field with short, velvety grass and the sun shining softly on his face. It was warm and comfortable and he didn't want to move but the singing… It grew annoying after a while, the lack of harmony grating on his nerves and he forced his eyes open to look around, raising himself on one elbow as he goggled at the sight. There were people all around him standing with their faces upraised, singing to the blue, blue sky.

Joyously, he stood up and ran over to a very familiar figure, greying golden hair moving in the slight breeze as the werewolf raised his voice in praise to something. Remus didn't move as Harry shook his shoulder, took no notice of the young man who called his name and tried to catch his attention so desperately. Looking around, Harry noticed more and more people he never thought he would ever see again, Tonks, Sirius, Dumbledore, Dennis Creevey, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, they were all there, faces pointing skyward, singing to heaven.

Further away, bright red hair flowed in the breeze, catching his attention and making his heart take wing as he ran, dodging the still figures in his path with a Seeker's agility as he skidded to a halt at the couple's feet. His mother and father stood side by side, eyes uplifted and singing. Throwing his arms around his father, then his mother, he wept as long pent-up emotions ran riot but there was no response. He tried calling their names and waving his hands before their faces, to no avail.

"Mum, Dad, look at me! Why won't you listen to me?" he yelled in anguish but the song just went on with never a blink of recognition.

"Because they are dead and you are not," a very familiar voice said.

Whipping around, Harry's jaw dropped as a black-robed figure stood with arms folded, foot tapping. "Really, Potter, won't you ever learn that you are not the centre of the universe?"

"Snape? My God, Professor Snape! What are you doing here?"

"Looking after your best interests as per usual. I get all the dirty jobs, don't you know?"

Harry burst out laughing; it was just so… so Snape! The sniff, the curled lip, the black eyes flashing distaste, he couldn't believe how much he had missed this bitter and sarcastic man all these years. "Where are we?"

"The gateway to hell, I believe."

"Seriously? Wow! Where are all the flames and stuff?"

Snape humphed in disgust. "How do you survive with such naivety intact? This is the gateway to the next world, a place you have seen before, in its station form, I believe Dumbledore said. However, as before, you do not belong here and you have no right to pass through the gates. Once again, you are trying to turn your back on your responsibilities and weasel out of getting on with the task at hand."

Harry bristled indignantly, vaguely amazed at the number and range of emotions he had been dragged through in the last few minutes, damned hormones, damned emotional mood swings! "When have I ever shirked any duty this bloody life has thrown at me?"

There was a pause and then a tiny fraction of a head bowed in acknowledgement. "However, you are turning your back on your child, are you not? Over there, Boy, don't you see her?"

Turning so quickly he almost fell over his own momentum, Harry saw a small baby lying in the grass. Even as he smiled and began to move forward, she grew into a toddler, a child, a young woman, middle aged, an old woman and then merged back into a chubby baby to do it all again. Blinking, Harry turned an inquiring gaze on the tall, intimidating man beside him.

"She isn't quite dead either. She's a magically created being who has not yet reached her potential but is in danger of losing her chance at life. Her life is tied to yours, she lives if you live; she dies if you die. At this moment they are trying to mend the tear they have made in your magical core. Hipax is good at it but Sarasvat has more knowledge on how to prolong a life and keep a body from dying during torture, which this birth has been akin to. If they succeed, then you both live; if they fail, then you both die, so I would suggest you er, '_gussie up that Gryffindor go_' of yours and put your mind to surviving this instant!"

Harry turned back to the baby, ignoring the sarcasm in the low murmur as he bent swiftly to scoop the baby up into his arms. "She's so beautiful!"

"Yes," came the surprising agreement, a long, thin hand ghosting over the fine black hair on her head. "A child of unexpected joy. You should both go back now, before the door is closed on you forever. Take our daughter with you…" Severus broke off as Brian turned to stare up at him in surprise then dawning realisation.

"You and my Sarasvat… I… you… How?" Brian spluttered, his eyes growing wide and a hand coming up to cover his mouth.

"Is it so very important, Potter? Sarasvat is waiting for you and you wouldn't want to disappoint him, now would you?"

Harry blinked then smiled, putting aside his surprise and his questions. "No, never that, he's too special to hurt like that… Er, sir, are you dead, too or alive?"

Snape looked down, then glanced up with a half smile which looked very like a Sarasvat expression to Brian who smiled back. "I am both alive and dead. If two lives are cut short, then it is possible - every once in a blue moon - to make one long and happy life from the two sad remnants. We, Sarasvat and I, decided to join forces in harmony and take what was offered, a chance for us both to experience the joy that had been so missing from our former existences. This child we have created between us is the result of that new lease of life and a distillation of that sheer pleasure in living. It has proved to be a very good bargain for both of us, so don't you foul it up by failing to take your chance too, Potter. Now go!"

The word hit him in the centre of the chest with the force of a blow, making him jolt and gasp, flailing madly as he fell backwards, back and back and down and down and…

"Again!"

He twitched and tried to avoid a second blow, his hand moving weakly to ward it off. Someone gave a wordless cry of relief as something was pressed over his face, cool, clean air forcing its way into his lungs. There was a knobbly mattress under his shoulders and two bands of warm, living steel around his shoulders and he realised he was cradled in Nash's arms, his partner's face buried in his hair as a blurry figure pressed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Blinking stupidly, he realised he was in his own bedroom, harsh light balls hovering over him as Hipax bent to do something to his belly, which was both numb and sore, a very odd combination of feelings. Joy!

"Lily Louisa Joy Potter Prince Snape Wardsmith-Rao," he murmured. "He called her the distilled joy of his new life."

"Who did, Harry?" Madam Pomfrey's voice sounded gently off to the side. That was so familiar given his present position of illness, it made him smile.

"Severus did."

oo0oo


	18. Enter the Princess Part III

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but would love to. Do participate and appreciate and hope it goes on forever more. I'm not sure how to classify this tale. It came to me when my partner's daughter emailed us to tell us we were to be Grandparents. Go Guys! Sadly the outcome of that pregnancy was a quick trip to hospital at three and a half months, which was a distinct shock to us all, but life goes on and hopefully the next attempt will be more successful. So, enjoy the tale and don't forget to feed the author with lots of tasty reviews.

**Author's Note:** I would also like to say thank you to all of you who have reviewed this tale. Some days the kind words of the reviewers are the only thing that keep you going and I really appreciate the comments you make. I always finish the first draft of a story before I start to post the first chapter so asking for story suggestions is not my way, however, a few of the comments and suggestions have caused a hurried rewrite and a flurry of international emails to fly. (Thank goodness we don't have to wait for snail mail any more. Even airmail used to take a couple of weeks back in the dark ages! LOL) So, take care, enjoy and review, the watchords for a great life!

Regards

Les

oo0oo

Pinit the house-elf let out a squeal of triumph as the baby began to breathe and twitch on her own. She grabbed up the winding cloths and funeral dress and popped away, appearing a few seconds later with a fluffy pink all-in-one with a small bunny appliqué-ed on the breast. Poppy grinned back and dashed the tears from her cheeks most self-consciously. How unprofessional of her, she scolded herself silently but oh how glad she was that this child had turned the corner and survived. Glancing around, she bend and kissed the child's forehead as she slipped a nappy and vest onto the child, then slid her into the romper and finally snuggled her up in a cloud soft pink bunny rug. Once the child was safe and warm, she had a moment to glance over to where Harry was still being worked on by the others. Her arms tightened around the child as the speed of her colleagues showed how desperate the situation still was.

Together, the two wizards and witch poured their magic into the depleted core, weaving their energy into a useable form for the patient. All three concentrated solely on the patient to the exclusion of everything else. Slowly their efforts were rewarded one tiny increment at a time, the _Acclaro_ spell showed the magical levels stabilising, rising to a self-sustaining level. When it reached the critical point, Hipax withdrew and cast a solid punching hex into the middle of Brian's chest, jolting him off the table while giving Nash a good kick, too. For a second there was no response, then Brian drew in a huge gasp of air and panted hard as the colour flooded his face, driving the blue tide away.

"We did it!" Lila's gasp of triumph came exactly as the little body under Poppy's hand began to move independently, pink warmth flooding her limbs in a healthy flow.

Lila threw her arms around Hipax, kissed him soundly and pounded the specialist on the back almost without thinking as Brian began to breath independently too.

Hipax blushed bright scarlet as he chuckled and hugged her back. Nash ignored the by-play as he bent over to listen to his partner's soft, serene words. As Poppy approached the messy birthing table, she heard Harry murmur, his voice still husky from screaming yet a great warmth and happiness in its depths.

"Lily Louisa Joy Potter Prince Snape Wardsmith-Rao," Brian murmured. "He called her the distilled joy of his new life."

"Who did, Brian?" Madam Pomfrey's voice sounded gently off to the side. That was so familiar given his present position of illness, it made him smile.

"Severus did."

Nash stiffened for a moment then relaxed, Brian's messy hair hiding his expression and drying his tears then he smiled when he realised Brian was smiling too. "It's a really good name," he agreed as he managed to stop the tears that wetted his partner's shoulders. "How is the baby girl doing?"

"She is beautiful, a tiny little princess."

The three medical magicals exchanged pleased and surprised looks but the couple on the birthing couch were oblivious to them as they stared hungrily at the child still cradled in Madam Pomfrey's arms. Only Nash's hold on his chest stopped Brian from snatching his child out of the old woman's arms, certainly not good manners! Poppy smiled knowingly as she offered the small but precious bundle over. "Seven pounds even and fifteen inches long, a healthy little girl. Support her head now."

Neither man was taking any notice as the tiny baby was snuggled close to Brian's chest, against his heart. Sarasvat's arms came around both of them sealing the circle as he rested his chin on Brian's shoulders to gaze somewhat fatuously at his tiny, black-haired daughter. As if feeling the weight of her parents' stares, Miss Lily Louisa Joy opened unfocused navy blue eyes and gazed up at the two blurry images above her, pursed rosy red lips in a small kissing motion and promptly went back to sleep.

The spilled magic in the room suddenly coalesced, pulled around the family and was absorbed through their skins as if a circuit had been made. Free magic from the surrounding area was also drawn to the family, binding around them and through them, visibly strengthening and healing the traumas caused by the rough and dangerous birth until exhaustion caused Brian's head to loll back onto Nash's chest. Such an absorbing of magic was not exactly usual and normally took the invocation the God parents provided to trigger it but, as Poppy commented softly, the couple was never exactly normal so why should this event be any different. Lila giggled but nodded her agreement as Hipax smirked and looked around the bloody wreak of the room. The others followed his gaze and shuddered. The place looked like a slaughter house.

"If you can lift them up, I'll banish the birthing table and have the house-elves clean up in here," Lila murmured to Nash, a deep satisfaction in her tone.

Nash glanced up, most reluctant to remove his attention from his small family, and smiled softly as he moved, careful not to waken his partner and child. They were not particularly heavy and the house-elves were very quick in restoring the room to the usual order. Carefully placing Brian on his own bed, Nash stepped back as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand in a swift _Evanesco_ to remove all the blood and mess, leaving the young man clean and fresh. A night shirt was speedily if awkwardly slid over Brian's head and decency reasserted before he was slid between magically warmed sheets.

Pinit waved her hand and the bassinette they had so lovingly decorated appeared in the room and settled beside the bed but Nash ignored it as he banished his outer robes and crawled into bed with his partner and child. He was not letting his daughter go for the moment, any more than Brian was.

Hipax smiled indulgently as he cleaned and shrank his tools of trade, exchanging knowing glances with Madam Pomfrey who had seen it all before but never tired of the sight of parents bonding to their new child. For Lila it was the first time and she surreptitiously wiped a small tear away as she stunned a small pang of jealousy to death in her breast. Her turn would come and she too would see that look of perfect love on her partner's face, one day.

"As soon as he wakes have him feed her and I'll stop by in a few hours to make sure everything is going well," Hipax told Nash softly. "If there is any problem, no matter how small, call us."

"Lidz, have Mimi serve tea for our guests in the drawing room," Nash ordered softly as he settled down to watch the two most important people in his life sleep.

oo0oo

Brian stared down at the tiny rosebud mouth that was causing sheer agony in his chest but hardly dared breathe as his daughter rooted at his chest then settled to suckled heartily. He had been utterly horrified when he first found he had developed small but very definite breasts, but now put to their proper use, he was amazed. Nash was equally enthralled and sat cross-legged on the bed with his mouth hanging half open as he studied the process intently.

"Won't she smother?" he asked softly as the small nose rooted eagerly once again.

"I don't know. Don't think so. Ouch! Merlin, am I glad she doesn't have teeth! How do women put up with this every day?"

Nash grinned wickedly. "Don't know, you tell me."

Brian took a deep breath, eyes ready to spit fire, then he began to giggle. "This is so screwed up! Do you think she'll grow up with a complex about hairy tits?"

"Depilate. I know Flitwick taught you the charm," Nash sniggered, and both set off into peals of laughter, making Lily Louisa jiggle and mewl in protest as her hearty meal was abruptly removed from her mouth. "Sorry, Baby, it was just too funny to miss."

Brian sobered. "There is something, though, Nash, something I heard when I was out to it. When I was, er, sort of dead… One of my old comrades-at-arms came to guide me back to the land of the living. He spoke of blue moons and two lives that were cut short being combined to make one happy life?"

Nash sobered and bent his head to trace the pattern in the jacquard duvet cover carefully. "Yes, I-I guess I should have discussed it with you before but there never seemed to be an appropriate time."

"Never?" Brian asked archly.

"Never. I didn't know who you were at first. You were under glamour and were just too sexy to be believed. Later, when I found out you were Harry Potter, it was too late to go back as I was already head over heels in love I was terrified of losing you. When we thought I felt my life was broken forever and then Lily was conceived and you were forced to come back to me… Merlin, Harry! How do you tell someone you are their worst enemy reincarnated as their lover? '_Oh, by the way, I used to be Severus Snape, your most feared potions professor, in a former life, and pass the salt please._' It doesn't exactly work its way into general conversation, now does it?"

Harry pondered his words as he fussed with Lily, swapping sides and reattaching the baby with a wince and a gasp before looking up and pinning Nash with a green gaze. "You want to tell me how it happened?" he asked, careful to keep his voice neutral and non-judgemental.

Taking a deep breath, Nash began his tale, leaving out no detail and adding points when Brian asked. "… Then, before Ziny had a chance to go for the Aurors, the… well, the ghost of Sarasvat sort of appeared and made everything stop, including time and the house-elf. We made a bargain, he and I. He would join with me and we would become him in all ways, setting aside the horrors of our pasts but not entirely forgetting them in case we started to make the same mistakes. Our strengths and weaknesses complemented each other, my knowledge of magic and potions was very useful to us both and his 'clean slate'; no history, no real enemies, except his uncle who was now dead, and his family over in India who did not know him would allow us to have a clean, fresh start. We were both shy but where I attacked, he tended to hide away, so we compromised and found a way to lose the shyness. I had a terribly cold, brooding temper, his was hot and quick, again we compromised. We became one much better person without too much arguing. It was as if we had always been two halves of a whole, rounded person and were only just getting together to co-exist."

Nash took Brian's free hand and played with the knuckles, a soft, almost dreamy smile on his face. "It was unbelievable, the culmination of everything I have ever wanted, knowledge of half a lifetime coupled with the kindness and possibility of a good life without one master or the other torturing me at every point, whether by dark curses or kind demands for the impossible. Don't get me wrong, I loved Dumbledore as a friend and as a father figure but he was no easier a master to serve than the Dark Lord in his own way. Now I was freed, free to sink or swim by my own merits and I unashamedly took what was offered. The chance of a better life with eyes wide open and a song in my heart." He glanced up with a pleading expression that turned rueful for a moment before he smiled ruefully.

"Then you came along! There you were, standing in the doorway licking your lips and I was gone in that instant. You were perfection personified and I was completely enthralled. It was love at first sight, Brian, impossible though that may seem, whether you believe it or not. To find out you were actually Harry James Bloody Potter was something of a shock but… it didn't matter! You were _my_ Brian Wardsmith, the most beautiful and special man in the whole, wide, wizarding, world and I loved you. I still love you with all my heart and soul, both of them actually, and I just hope you can still love me," he finished with downcast head.

Brian snatched his hand free but before Nash could react, the burlier man grasped the back of his neck dragged him forward into a one-armed hug, burying his face in the crook of Nash's shoulder joint. "I don't care who you were just as long as you are my Sarasvat Narsimha Rao, perfect partner, father of our child and my special love."

Tension Nash had not realised was there melted away and he collapsed against Brian, causing the huddle of three to overbalance and land against the piled drift of pillows the house-elves had supplied them with. Brian and Nash could have stayed like that forever but a certain young lady made her displeasure at being partially squashed very vocally known and both young parents were caught up in the drama of caring for their infant tyrant once again.

oo0oo

Ron and Hermione were delighted with the newest addition to their friends' household, cooing and exclaiming over the pink bundle who simply slept through all the adulation. Their own children were less than impressed and much more interested in the spread of treats the house-elves produced for them. Uncle Brian and Uncle Nash had the best house-elves who made the best Macadamia Honey ice cream, Almond biscuits and chocolate fondue. Even better, they could make as much mess as they liked around the house and garden without being told off.

Adriana Malfoy smiled at her husband, a contented and completely happy smile as his hands slid around her still thin waist. Nash had sent an owl only a month ago with a potion that tasted like something that had died long ago and had been fermented in a pressure cooker. Draco had read the note and burst out laughing. When Adriana inquired, he dropped a kiss on her nose and grinned boyishly. "Nash says he is merely anticipation the blackmail potential I have over him and he hopes that the result will be a fitting reward to keep us completely occupied for the next one hundred years!"

She had very nearly vomited as she gagged it down but down it stayed. Then, two days later, another potion had arrived, blue and sweet, so sweet it was sickly but it too had stayed down. Finally, three days after that, a soft green potion, redolent in spice and flowers and completely palatable had come. She had drunk it all, thoroughly enjoyed it and then she and her husband had locked themselves away for three days, making love and, as Draco had so crudely put it, rutted like rabbits. The upshot was a pregnancy, established, confirmed and presided over by Hipaxion Bones-Bulstrode, a new generation of Malfoys on the horizon, much to their utter delight.

Mandy and Lila were standing together near the fountain in the back garden of Laburnum Cottage watching the crowd of mixed witches and wizards, wine glasses in their hands. Mandy was thrilled to be asked to the official Presentation ceremony for Lily but a little overwhelmed as this was a very Wizarding ceremony and she was about the only Muggle present. Lila had taken her under her wing, knowing how hard it was as she was Muggle-born herself. Her act of kindness had born fruit as the two young women made a firm friendship over the past few months.

"No, Lily was Named within twenty-four hours of her birth, she had to be or someone could have stolen her magic, which would have been disastrous. Draco Malfoy was named her Godfather, while Hermione Granger-Weasley and Luna Longbottom were named her Godmothers. Girls usually have one godfather and two godmothers, for boys it's the other way around. They sealed her to Family Rao and made her the daughter of Nash and Brian, as was proper. This is a Presentation Ceremony so that she can be shown off to the whole wizarding world as a perfect being. It's an old ceremony and usually sort of done with the Naming these days, but because of Lily's… unusual parentage… they decided to do it the old way. Usually the Head of Family does the presenting but because the Head of Family Rao is in India and Brian is his own head of Family, they asked Arthur Weasley to preside." Before she could explain further, there was a fanfare of horns and everyone hurried to the open air pavilion that occupied most of the lawn area where a raised dais had been set out, surrounded by chairs and benches.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Presentation of the newest member of the Rao Family. Will the Godparents come forward," Arthur Weasley asked, beaming down on the crowd as the procession of three adults wended their way down the aisle, Hermione bearing the white swathed bundle of lace over her arms. Behind the three godparents, Brian and Nash walked, each wearing pure white robes over traditional blue and green under robes, each embroidered with their family crests.

As the procession mounted the dais everyone clapped and cheered, Arthur taking the baby in secure, experienced hands. Three-month-old Lily gazed up at her Uncle Arthur with wide black eyes and as usual moved uncoordinatedly to grab at his greying red hair and glasses. He chuckled and turned her, letting her formal lace gown cascade over his arm as Molly had taught him many years ago. With deft fingers, he loosened the tiny frog fastenings and slid one sleeve, then the other, off plump pink arms. Lily wasn't sure about this, her small brow wrinkling despite the warming charms on the dais. March was not a month to be outside unclothed in but it was as late as they dared leave the Presentation Ceremony. Then Arthur pulled a funny face and she smiled, cooing up at him, all forgiving.

Finally, completely naked, the child was held up so that the audience could see her in all her glory, a few exclamations of surprise rang out as some of the audience noticed that she had no belly button. Cameras snapped as the official photographer recorded the presentation as Arthur moved in the required circle, intoning the child's name as he turned. There were a few more gasps and the names 'Potter', 'Prince' and 'Snape' were added to the list, the tiny girl being named heir to those families.

Being held in the air quite naked, having noise and light pressed in on her and being a young lady of decided ideas, Lily Louisa Joy Potter Prince Snape Wardsmith-Rao finally made her displeasure known. There was a wail like a young dragon awakening and a crack of apparition as Arthur was left stunned with empty hands in the air. Yelps and shrieks of terror sounded but Brian's crack of laughter caused everyone to turn and look at him. His tiny daughter was huddled up in her Daddy's arms while one small hand clutched her Papa's robes sleeve as she tried to bury her face in her Daddy's breasts.

"I don't think there is any doubt that young Miss Rao will be a force to be reckoned with when she is a witch grown," Arthur remarked wryly, as Nash rolled his eyes at Brian's indulgence. "If her parents survive, that is," he added with a wicked grin, all too reminiscent of his twin sons' usual expressions.

oo0oo

**Epilogue**

"Lily Louisa Joy Rao, what do you think you are doing?"

The little girl turned with an expression so haughty it could have abashed armies. "I am a Princess and as ruler of this kingdom, I am not subjected to your orders!" she said with her nose in the air then screamed and kicked as she was grabbed around the waist and tossed into the air. "Papa! You aren't supposed to tickle princesses!" she gasped over the giggles and squirming.

"Since I am the King of this kingdom, I get to make the rules and the tickling of snooty princesses is a mandatory requirement to harmonious rule," Nash told her in equally snooty tones. "Have I not ordered it so, my Queen?"

Brian glanced up at his husband and child and rolled his eyes. "Honestly you two, delusions of grandeur much," he muttered. "Everybody knows the Queen is much more powerful than the King, having the last word on everything."

"Yes, and who are we to argue?" Nash replied levitating their daughter over to her Daddy who laughed and kissed the top of her shining black ringlets. "Everybody ready?"

"Do we have to?" Lily whined as she clung to her Daddy's hip when he stood up. "Castor and Pollex Malfoy always try to gang up on me when we go to the Manor."

"Now, Honey, you know it is Selena's birthday and she would be very disappointed if you didn't come," Nash coaxed as he draped his husband's cloak over his shoulders and picked up the presents ready to apparate out to Malfoy Manor.

Lily eyed the gifts critically then sighed. "You know, Selena wanted a real dragon for her birthday, not some old stuffed toy one."

"I know but a little girl who is only just turning six can't look after a dragon properly," Brian reminded her absently as they apparated to Malfoy Manor, the wards allowing them though without incident.

Eight-year-old Lily's eyes narrowed in a way that usually made both fathers very wary but they were too busy greeting Draco and Adriane to notice. The Malfoys were completely delighted with the three children they had managed to produce with the help of Nash's potions and were always holding birthday or Christmas parties or picnics and fun days for all the children of their acquaintance. This birthday was really special as Selena had shown her first sign of magic only the day before and Draco was totally enthralled with it. Both Raos were careful not to mention that Lily had a tendency to use magic first and ask questions later. If she had been anyone else's daughter, the Ministry would always be on their doorstep for underage magic infringements on more than a daily basis. However, the wards Brian had installed around their home and grounds were impervious and kept all hints of magical activity well away from prying spells.

The tumbling, squealing crowd of children were watching as Selene Malfoy opened her presents and prettily thanked the adults for the boring ones. Those meeting her approval were greeted with squeals of delight and the group of children would jump around in a circle until the next bundle was opened. Seated on the couch, Brian grinned when the Indian silk dress robes were greeted with a very polite '_thank you, Godfathers'_, knowing very well how their goddaughter reacted to presents. Nash cast him a puzzled glance when their stuffed dragon was not unwrapped and didn't seem to be in with the pile of presents at all.

Before they could comment there was a scream of terror from the garden and a roar followed by a blast of fire. People were running for their lives as a Welsh Green stood on the edge of the flowerbeds bellowing a challenge to the skies, its wings extended.

"What the hell?" Draco demanded, the menfolk pulling wands as they headed outside to cope with the threat. "I've never seen a furry Welsh Green dragon before," he remarked in surprise as the creature was hit by half a dozen _Reductos_ and fell lifeless to the ground before any further damage was done.

Even as they watched, the huge creature dwindled and shrank down to a very familiar toy which caused parental eyes to narrow.

"Lily Louisa Joy Potter Snape Prince Wardsmith Rao!"

The young lady in question quietly covered her backside with both hands.

**End**

**Author's Note:** And there you have it, the end of this offering. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. The main problem with this fic was making male pregnancy sound logical; the reasons for the pregnancy in the first place, the actual pregnancy and the final birth.

Again I thank the BeST. Zarathustra for telling me to have a rethink and a rewrite, although at the time murder was the uppermost reaction in my mind. However, she was right and the finished story was much better than the first and second drafts. And of course Rachael, she of the purple pen of doom who keeps asking '_Huh! What were you thinking when you wrote this series of events, if thought was involved at all?_' Usually nothing, actually. Without their input this really would be piss poor effort.

I have no plans for a sequel, sorry, but I must again thank everyone who reviewed, I do appreciate your input and comments, they keep the project ticking along nicely. I'm not going to mention names but I must say, its great to hear from you who review my stuff on a regular basis. Unfortunately, having just started a new job, I am at the point where I have absolutely no time in the day to even think, never mind write so the two half fic I have are not proceeding. Still, watch this space, they will during the school holidays which are December to the end of January here Down Under and you never know what idle fingers and brains will come up with. Muahahahaah!

Until we meet again, keep looking on Zarathustra's Reading Nook for interesting stuff to read.

Regards

Les


End file.
